


Thaw

by CrescentMoonDemon



Series: Amalgamation [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Between Movies, Canon Divergent If You Squint, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, GASP there was only ONE BED, Grownup Conversations, Keeping warm, Language, Morning After, Movie Night, Raphril - Freeform, Relationship Establishing, Shortfic Gone Long, Snowed In, admitted teratophile April O’Neil, burn not so slow, coming together, mututal pining, not technically smut but it gets real close a few times, shameless feel good fic, steamy make out sessions, the thirst is real between them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22997752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrescentMoonDemon/pseuds/CrescentMoonDemon
Summary: She never asked Raph to trudge through a damn snowstorm just to check on her, but he was her friend, and April was not inclined to send him back out to freeze to death in a damn New York blizzard. So, he stayed, and it was hard not to let conversations wander and for their places in each other's lives to evolve beyond anything they ever thought they deserved.
Relationships: April O'Neil & Raphael (TMNT), April O'Neil/Raphael (TMNT)
Series: Amalgamation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738846
Comments: 59
Kudos: 123





	1. Gray

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever been so disappointed in a movie that you just wanted better for its characters? Yeah. Me, too.
> 
> Fuck you, Michael Bay.

April would, to her dying breath, consider herself a connoisseur of the animated arts. She loved cartoons. Often, the goofier the better. She liked kooky shows like _Wander Over Yonder_ , shows with heavier messages like _Steven Universe_ , cutesy kid flicks like _Rescue Bots_ , and even the occasional mindless drivel of _SpongeBob SquarePants_. If nothing else, they were a nice distraction from the stresses of work. 

Sadly, none of those were on right now.

April didn’t watch the news—let alone the Weather Report—for anything other than background noise. Felt no need to when she already knew most of the stories going out before they even hit the air. Even competing channels held no surprises. So here she was, trapped, sprawled on the sofa in her pajamas and scrolling through the convo board of her favorite conspiracy blog and catching only spare blips of the weather out of the edge of her hearing: “. . . plows going through the night . . . blizzard strength winds . . . encouraged to stay indoors. . . .”

She did look up at that last bit, eyes glancing to the steaming cup of cocoa set to cool on her coffee table. The city’s homeless population was surely going to suffer from a storm like this; she thought of the shelter on Chamberlain that Channel 2 did a bit on last month and clenched her jaw.

April switched out of the convo board while sliding to her feet and combed through her newsfeed for that article; attached to it was a list of crucial need items and resources that could be used to spread awareness to the city’s homeless plight. All these things in mind, she began typing out notes for a story on her app and switched back to rifle through contacts, hoping she still had the number for that vet tech who offered her input once as a volunteer line cook at one such shelter. 

_Tap-tap._

It was a subtle noise, next to nothing. A whisper of sound from the curtained window. It could have been anything. Or nothing. The wind buffeting the glass or the cold causing the frame to contract, or, hell, maybe a wayward pigeon pecking at the light source, too dumb to fly south before the storm hit.

All were logical reasons to ignore a sound so inconsequential as that. But in these past several months, April’s life had become anything but logical. 

Setting her phone on the counter, April went for the window and drew the curtains in a swift yank, already prepared with a few choice words for whoever dared to intrude this late on a horrendously long workday. But the only thing that came from her lips was a sharp gasp, frightened and alarmed by the hulking shadow silhouetted there.

“ _Jesus—!_ Christ, _Raph_ ,” she shouted and scrabbled at the window lock. 

It took force to break the ice formed on the ledge, but as soon as the frame squealed open she was buffeted by a wall of frigid wind and snow. The shock of the gale dazed her for an instant, but she pushed through and grabbed him by the arm with every intention of dragging the turtle inside. 

His breath plumed from his mouth in a thick, icy shroud; his scales felt more like frozen stones than living tissue. Yet, he was grinning at her. She didn’t know whether to be happy to see him or scream at him for the stupidity of coming in the first place. Worst of all, he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, because Raphael laughed and sent more cloudy vapor trails whirling off into the wind. Now, she was cold _and_ ticked off.

“Goddammit, dummy, get in here—you’re _gray_!”

April’s thoughts raced a mile a second as Raphael stumbled in through the window, shaking with cold. She pulled hard to shut it, a million questions concerning if Splinter knew he was here and _what in the **hell** he thought he was doing coming here through a damn snowstorm in the first place_.

April pushed through those thoughts to get Raph into the relative warmth of her living room first; only then did she realize he was already talking.

“’S-s-s-s o-okay, April. Ju-ust wanted t’check in o-on ya. Don said things were g-g-gonna get—get bad t’night. We ha-had ta m-m-make sure you were ok-kay,” he explained in cracked syllables, voice made huskier by the cold. He was shivering, rubbing furtively at his upper arms. The normal deep green of his scales had paled to something like desiccated algae, and she could have sworn there was frost in the red fabric of his bandana.

She wanted badly to scream at him. To call him an idiot for coming out in this. For him to not call her first so she knew to expect him in case he never arrived. 

She wanted to call him stupid and reckless and a fool and— _ugh,_ worse, for making her worry! But April bit her tongue and focused her anger into action. She stalked up to him with a purpose that seemed to destabilize the hulking turtle, like she were a wild animal coming in for an attack (and were April in any less of a mood she might have been pleased with herself to have garnered such a reaction). With all the fury of a she-wolf fretting over an irresponsible cub, April grabbed Raph by his upper arm (not so much grabbed as set her hand firmly upon; it was far too thick to even get much of a grip on let alone hold) and led him to the sofa. The cushions caved beneath his considerable weight when he sat down.

April didn’t realize she was muttering until the cup of cocoa was in his hands and she was pulling her electric blanket off the back of the couch and over his shell and shoulders. “You could’ve just called me. You didn’t have to come all the way up here and risk freezing your shell off just to check on me. You have my number, Raph, you should have just called—” It all came out in a rush; she practically stumbled over herself speaking so fast. “What if you’d gotten stuck out there, huh? What if I didn’t hear you? You’d be a _Frozen_ Ninja Turtle and I’d have to be the one to explain to Leo why there was a Raphsicle on my fire escape and _why are you laughing_?”

His huge shoulders positively quaked, shaking no longer solely from the cold. 

“April. April, hey, ’m okay. Really,” Raph smirked. The edge of his mouth puckered the scar above his lip, showing a glimpse of white teeth. “Chill. I’m good.”

_Chill, he says._ The thought trampled through her head, prickling her into a mood that might have turned venomous on any other occasion; April pursed her lips to fight back the impulse to smile. He was alive, she reminded herself, not hurt, not injured, but a little frostbitten. 

She gave Raph that single acquiescence and lifted the hand that was holding the cocoa, like a pink ceramic dot in his giant fist.

“Sit here, drink this, and thaw out. I’ll make us some more.” She turned the six steps to the adjoined kitchen, thought of something else, and turned over her shoulder. “Just don’t melt all over my sofa.”

Raph saluted and sipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by chapter 19 of [Agehron's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agehron/pseuds/Agehron) 100 prompt drabble [The Air that Feeds the Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698824/chapters/33966834). It's really cute and I'm a sucker for characters interacting closely, so please go check it out; it's a super short collection but it's so cute and hella worth the read.


	2. Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I may have arrived too late to a dead/dormant fandom but, eh, who cares. I'm in it for the laughs at this point.

April felt markedly better once she had a mug of her own complete with a modest layer of marshmallows. 

She returned to the living room for the last time with a plush blanket draped over her shoulders; the apartment had dropped a solid six degrees just from the window being open those few seconds, and since her pajamas were not exactly arctic rated, she felt that difference in her bones, fingers, and toes. The extra layer would be necessary while the apartment’s ancient heating system played catch-up.

At least Raph was better. His scales were already back to their normal color, and he’d taken off his bandana to let it dry after the snow melted to it. His first impulse had been to slap it onto the coffee table to air out, and April did her best not to be offended by the treatment of her (albeit cheap) furniture and instead patted it dry and set the mask to air out on a clean dish towel on the kitchen counter.

Raph sipped his drink from a ridiculously oversized novelty mug April offered in exchange for her favorite pink one back. It was a black one-quart monstrosity a friend gave her as a joke when she first started her internship at Channel 6, but the charm of the slogan “Just Enough Coffee” had been too endearing to ever throw away. Mikey was smitten over it on the guys’ first visit to her apartment, and right now it really did seem like the perfect amount of heat. 

Raph was still sipping from it when April claimed a place to sit on the armrest adjacent to him, mug cupped in both her palms to soak up its warmth. He lowered his cup, not entirely lacking in courtesy, and April thought she caught a flash of pink chase away the layer of foam on his upper lip. She tried not to let that detail linger in her brain. 

“Better?” she asked.

“Mh, yeah. Thanks, April.”

“Good. Now maybe you can explain why you felt the need to risk frostbite when all you had to do was text me.”

“S’gonna get cold tonight, I told ya. Don says below zero.”

“And? This is New York. It’s winter. It’s cold.” She tipped her head, causing her hair to fall over her shoulder, and fixed him with her best ‘come on’ stare. “What’s the _real_ reason, Raph?”

Raph’s brows knitted for the briefest of seconds, a look so subtle and quick she might have missed it were she not trained to look out for those kinds of tells in interviews.

“I ain’t lyin’, April,” he insisted, annoyance from the accusation creeping into his tone. Not that she cared—or believed him.

“Really? Because I’ve interviewed perps in handcuffs with better pokerfaces than the one you have right now.”

“Hey, _hey_ , take it easy. What, like I’m not allowed t’ visit a friend?”

“Well, when that friend just finished a sixty-seven-hour workweek and would have greatly appreciated a heads-up before her privacy was invaded, you tend to get a little less leeway, Raph.”

“Jesus, April, I’m tellin’ ya, I ain’t—”

He stopped when the draw of her brow and tight line of her lips did not precisely read of angry, no, just severely unenthused. 

“Raphael, I could keep this up all night until you tell me the reason for—”

“Alright, alright, _okay!_ Shit,” he cut her off. Angry sparks crackled in the yellow of his eyes. “Jesus. Fine.”

She saw the instant he dropped the pretense, and he was obviously not pleased to have it wheedled out of him so assertively. Like he was being interrogated over a crime committed. Raph set his mug on the coffee table where an old magazine served as a makeshift coaster alongside his sais.

“Donnie’s scans picked up a couple Foot Clan goons near here a few days back, an’ Leo thought maybe they were casin’ the place, so I— _we_ wanted to make sure you were okay in case you got stuck inside. Things’ve been slow the past couple months, but that story you did last week put the heat back out on ‘em. They’re startin’ to move again, April, and this time there’s a target on your back almost as big as ours. You gotta know that.”

April cocked her head. “I do know that. And I’m not worried.”

“April.”

“I’m _not_. I’m not going to be intimidated into silence, Raph.”

His voice raised; it never took much for that to happen. He snapped, “Silence ain’t gonna be what gets you killed!”

“But it could get _other people_ killed.” Her voice raised in response, too. Ire like genuine flames prickled inside her belly, and she set her mug down. “Nine months ago, half the news channels in the city were too intimidated to write so much as a blurb on the Foot Clan. They had the city in a chokehold, everyone was afraid, but now that the story’s out there and people know—really _know_ —that they’re not invincible—people aren’t afraid anymore. I’m not going to give the Foot a chance to worm their way back out onto the streets just because they’ve got a nose out for me. I’m not going to let this city slip into a false sense of security and give those guys the chance to try something again.”

“They _kill people_ , April. Often. You gotta be more careful about shit like this!” Raph was growling now, his face dower with unconcealed rage. One hand tightened into a fist on his knee. There was new bandaging there she didn’t notice before, and a couple more spots on his arms that didn’t match his usual gauze bindings.

They stared each other down for the span of a breath, and where April thought she might yell, instead she whispered, and somehow it sounded so much louder than if she had, “I know, Raph. I was there, too.” There was no edge in her voice, but there didn’t need to be.

The muscles of his jaw tightened so hard she saw the flex in his temples, but then, in a flash, it was all gone. His hand fell from his leg, and his shoulders sagged as if they’d been holding up an immense weight. He looked deflated. He ran a hand over his head and muttered something that might have been in Japanese.

Raph mumbled under his breath, “Okay . . . I didn’t mean ta. . . .”

Sitting up straight, April reached out and laid one hand gingerly on his shoulder. A jolt seemed to go through him at the touch; eyes suddenly wide bolted to look at her, staring where her hand connected with his arm. She hesitated to pull away, half expecting he would shrug her off or scoot away or tell her not to, but it surprised her more when he didn’t. Instead, the tension seemed to bleed right out of him. Down his arms and back, through the sofa cushion, and out the floor and into the universe.

It wasn’t the first time they’d touched. Playful swats, pats, and jabs were exchanged routinely when hanging out at the lair. But this, it felt different. Meaningful. His scales were cooler than her hand, but they were definitely warm, now. She passed her thumb over one and felt him shiver beneath it. Maybe he was still feeling the cold after all.

“I—” Raph started to say, stopped, shut his mouth and opened it again a few times, then huffed a heavy, frustrated sigh. But there was no malice in his words when he spoke, “I didn’t mean to suggest—I know you know what they can do. I just didn’t—we don’t want you gettin’ hurt, April.”

“I know.”

He looked back at her. His brows were drawn, looking somehow lost; the two of them knew better than most the sting of loss that came from tangling with the Foot Clan. The only difference: Raphael was able to save _his_ family.

April tipped her head and bumped his shoulder with her forehead. Dark hair spilling over like a shroud, she wondered what she’d done to deserve a family like Raphael and his crazy, funny, compassionate, stupid, wonderful brothers.

“Thank you for caring enough to worry about me,” April said softly. 

She felt Raph nod. She lingered there, unwilling to move, and when she felt his arm shift she figured it would be to put it between them and regain a little space, but he didn’t. Instead, the arm curled across her back. Heavy and solid, it hung over her like a drape, the weight of it grounding her to this place, this time, and she was warm and Raph was a firm, steady rock in the tumbling ocean of discord that had become her life these past several months.

“Don’t mention it,” he murmured, head so close to hers she felt his voice as much as heard it.

She turned her body and settled in against his side, the ambient warmth of the electric blanket paling in comparison to the sheer volume of his presence. He shifted until they both found a comfortable way to sit, neither one relinquishing the position they’d claimed. 

The TV had been muted but was still on through it all. The weather report had long since cycled out and there was a rerun playing of an interview from earlier in the evening. God, was it already so late that the reruns were going?

“The heck’re you watchin’, April?” Raph asked, looking less intrigued by what was on and more dumbstruck it could be anything worthwhile. 

She sighed. “Hell if I know. Mostly I just play it for the white noise.”

Raph cocked his head and looked around. Finding the remote fallen beneath a corner of the coffee table, he scooped it up and hit the mute button. The voice of the reporter kicked back on mid-sentence. _“—cutest addition to the local zoo, Tom. Hopefully momma bear will have enough coat to keep the new family warm.”_ The reporter laughed, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. 

“You actually like this stuff?” Raph grimaced.

April shared a similar expression. “Hey, just ‘cause I reported on seagull cardio _once_ doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.”

Raphael barked a laugh, and April stole the remote to change the channel. She flipped around but all her favorite stations were in commercials, and the guide didn’t show anything worthwhile coming on anytime soon. She was usually asleep this time of night for that very reason. After some aimless surfing, Raph’s hand appeared in front of her, palm open, and flexed his fingers. She surrendered control back to his big hand and returned to sipping her cocoa as he started skipping rapid-fire through searches she would probably not consider. 

She remained curled in beside him, and his arm stayed around her. Solid, warm, and, she realized, protective. April smiled around the lip of her mug and licked away the marshmallow melt that clung to her lips.


	3. Accretion

A sharp, electrical snap and hail of white sparks erupted across the TV screen, and the hatted soldier jerked before dropping like a stone to the jungle floor, a gaping wet hole blown clean through the middle of his chest. Raph was enraptured. April, on the other hand, had seen _Predator_ and all its affiliated movies maybe eight times and could quote most every iconic line down to the inflections; she wondered if Raph had never seen it before. She found that hard to believe given the effort the turtles put into decking out the entertainment center at the lair, but who knew really.

In seconds, the remaining soldiers were mowing down enormous swaths of jungle with fully automatic weapons in a hail Mary attempt to kill whatever just assassinated their teammate. 

“Why don’t they just follow it?” Raph asked, cutting through the silence.

April blinked, surprised as much by the question as the idea Raph would be the type to talk during a movie.

“Because they can’t see it,” she astutely replied.

He gestured at the screen. “But they just saw it run away. It’s movin’. That mirage thing that it does—it’s not _invisible_.”

“Cloaking?”

“Yeah, that. They can totally see that! Why don’t they follow it by the plants it moves when it walks by?”

April wondered briefly if this had to do with his ninja training, then figured it probably did. There were many ways to track an enemy, and it was probably easier for a layman to suspend their disbelief than a trained martial artist who could see all the flaws behind certain actions.

“Because they don’t know what they’re up against and blindly following it into the jungle would put them at a tactical disadvantage?” April tried again.

Raph’s brow furrowed tighter and his mouth flattened into a thin line, but he did not seem to be about to argue against a point like that.

He grumbled, “They’re s’posed to be elite soldiers.”

“That’s what makes it so scary.”

Raph raised his eyebrows looking down at her. April had nestled deeper into the sofa. Both legs were curled up beside her, practically all of her weight was leaning into his side. Raphael, too, was lounged as far back into the couch cushions as his shell allowed, one arm maintaining a dutiful sentry across her shoulders and the other slung over the couch back.

“This was peak horror back in the ‘80s, Raph,” April continued.

Raphael chuffed. “Peak horror—I can see the pixels on that thing’s camouflage.” 

“Think about it. This came out around _Rambo_ and all those other glorious ‘80s action flicks. TV was full of soldiers being badasses. Then _Predator_ came out and showed all those muscle-bound badasses getting picked off like flies. Big manly men like Arnold Schwarzenegger: _scared_.”

Raph rolled his eyes, apparently unimpressed. Why did that make April want to wipe that look off his face?

“Did you know this was one of the most dangerous movies of its age to film because they used real, live rounds while filming?” At that, Raph glanced away from the screen long enough to look at her, brow quirked on one side. April nodded at the TV. “When they were mowing down the jungle, it’s filmed mostly from behind because they’re using real bullets in a few of those shots. That’s an actual swath of the Hawaiian jungle being torn down by actual bullets fired by Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

Raph turned his head fully away from the screen, both brows raised.

“And they had to film in Hawaii because when they tried to film in Central America the crew got guns pulled on them by locals and were threatened if they didn’t leave.”

Raph was still staring, still quiet, and April felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment the longer he stared. Maybe she said too much. She didn’t often let her trivia knowledge out. Frankly, she was kinda curious to see where Don, Leo, and Mike stood on the subject of cinema knowledge. Not to brag, but she was rather proud of her mental roster of obscure facts. Maybe Raph just wasn’t the right brother to share it with.

He was still staring, and she was getting increasingly uncomfortable. 

A white-toothed grin split all the way across his face. “You’re a movie nerd.”

Indignation flared hot on her face, and April slugged him square in the side. Unfortunately, her knuckles caught nothing but plastron, and she forgot how freaking solid that was— _ouch_. Raph erupted into laughter so hard he keeled forward holding his sides. April broke off out of sheer annoyance, arms folded tightly over her chest as she leaned back on the armrest and affixed him with a stern glare. 

“Be nice,” she demanded over his unrepentant laughs.

Raph tried to speak but could barely get a word out. He wheezed, wiping his eyes as he tried to compose himself.

“I never woulda’ thought. An’ here I thought Don was the geeky one,” he said through intermittent huffs.

“Don’t make fun of my useless movie knowledge. It’ll come in handy one day.”

Raph smirked broadly. “Sure it will. You could audition for _Jeopardy_.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Hell, I’d watch the hell outta that. You’d prob’ly make Donnie swoon.”

Okay, that made her giggle.

It was nighttime in the jungle, and the soldiers were anxiously keeping watch. One was taking the loss of his comrade very hard, tipped to the edge of sanity by rage and grief. April loved that scene. How unsettling the lighting was on his face, making the actor’s dark skin look ghastly in the moonlight. How quiet his voice was while monologuing about gory revenge.

“I like monster movies,” April murmured before she realized she was even speaking.

“What, like _Godzilla_?”

Well, she liked _Godzilla_ , too, but, “Like—movies with monsters in them. Like alien movies and dinosaurs and werewolves and all that.”

“ _Jurassic Park_?”

She pointed a bingo finger at him. “Mostly the first two. The new ones are . . . eh.” Raph looked ready to disagree, so she quickly went on, “It’s not just scary movies, though. I mean, I like horror movies, don’t get me wrong, but monster movies are made to be scary because it fits the medium. Like, man fights monster because monster is evil, but—like—I like seeing what people come up with. Design and creature-wise. Have you ever seen _The Cave_?”

Raph paused to think. “That the one where the ladies all get eaten by the pale things?”

“That’s _The Descent_. I like that one, too, but no. Anyway, in _The Cave_ a bunch of cave divers are exploring a remote underwater system, and it’s dark and claustrophobic and they start getting picked off by these—er, spoilers?”

“Hey, sounds good; don’t stop on my account,” he insisted. Raph leaned back, both arms splayed across the back of the couch to give his undivided attention.

“’Kay, well, they start getting picked off by these gigantic bat-winged things with gnarly shaped heads and bodies, and they can fly and swim and climb around and use echolocation to pursue and eat the divers, and it’s really good and. . . .”

She went on, not squeamish about getting into gory details and one of her favorite fight/death scenes featuring a slow-motion leap from one sheer cliff to another. Raph listened intently, more interested in her than any action scene taking up the TV screen in that moment. April waved her hands around, pantomiming swinging a weapon one minute then the diving motion of a swooping bat-monster the other, then holding up a single curled finger in the shape of a gnarled claw. 

“ . . . and so the brother is infected by the parasite that’s turning him into one of the monsters, but it leaves off all ambiguous like we don’t know if he survived or not, and I thought it was really cool. The thought that he could be turning into one of those things but maybe not having the same killing desire as the others? Like, what would he do? What could he be capable of if he’d gotten out?”

April realized then just how far down the rabbit hole her rambling had taken her, but Raph’s amused grin provided her with a different source of anxiety. 

“Sounds kinda familiar if you ask me,” he said. At her quizzical look, he jabbed a thumb at himself and puffed out his chest. “You just described a dude mutatin’. You’re lookin’ at the king o’ mutation.” 

April was grateful she’d only been reaching for her cocoa and not holding it, because she snorted so hard it probably would have spilled. Her hand flew to her mouth in an ill-conceived attempt to hide her laughter, but Raph didn’t look insulted, instead pleased to have gotten that kind of a reaction out of her.

Still giggling, April pulled her blanket back up over her shoulders at the same time stretched her legs out in front of her and plopped them square across Raphael’s lap. 

“The King, huh? Well, your majesty, thanks for letting me regale you with my infinite knowledge of cheesy movie monsters,” April smiled. 

Raph jumped and stiffened the instant her legs contacted his, startled right out of his showboating. His hands went reflexively for what was touching him, but he stopped short before they could, hand hovering just above her knees, and gawped openly. 

Now it was April’s turn to feel proud from the reaction she’d garnered. Playing it off by crossing one ankle over the other, she took her cocoa and continued drinking. It had cooled significantly, but she found it hard to be disappointed by that when Raph looked utterly lost about where his hands were supposed to go, now. 

There was color in his face that April had not seen before. Darker than its regular green. She thought maybe it meant he was getting too much heat from the electric blanket. Maybe she should show him how to turn it down, she thought. But then Raphael glanced at her face from the corner of his eye, a subtle peek she realized she probably wasn’t meant to see, but when he saw she was still looking the color deepened and he looked away so fast she was almost certain it’d been a trick of the light. Almost.

She lowered the mug to both hands. “Um, do you want me to . . . ?”

Raph’s jaw flexed nervously, and when he didn’t reply she made to pull her legs away. His hand shot into place on her shin, and her legs fell right back down. He looked wide eyed at his hand, like he couldn’t understand his own actions.

“Nah, it’s—s’fine. You’re comfortable. Yeah?” Raph asked haltingly. He sounded somehow breathless. Like he’d just run a marathon across rooftops.

April nodded. She was comfortable. Very. She liked physical contact. As a kid, she’d been a hug-y child. During sleepovers with friends, their groups would all pile in heaps on couches and air mattresses rather than retreat to bedrooms or individual sleeping bags. As an adult, that translated to her dating life, too. Sure PDA wasn’t always good for the reporter persona, so she avoided that as a general rule in public, but in the privacy of her own place, well, she wasn’t shy about throwing her body around, or getting thrown around for that matter.

“Are you?” April asked.

Raph looked up from the pink satin checkerboard of her pajama bottoms long enough to meet her eyes. He’d somewhat composed himself, but the dazed look on his face and the ever so gentle weight of his hand on her leg was not easily ignored. He was clearly keeping his weight off her, like he was worried gravity itself could make his strength enough to break her. It was ridiculously cute, and so entirely unnecessary. 

“Huh—what?” 

“Are you comfortable, Raph?”

At that, he bolstered himself up. He squared his shoulders and anchored himself with a breath through his nostrils. He nodded once, but when he spoke it was in that Batman-esque voice of his, all gruff and tough. “Yeah, I’m good. S’fine.”

April took another swig of cocoa to stifle her giggle, but there was no way he didn’t notice. She licked the marshmallow foam from her lips and set it aside again; it was almost empty.

“So, Mutant King, what’s your take on monster movies?” she asked.

Raph shrugged. A very simple motion that did not in any way hide his amusement at being called that. “They’re okay, I guess. I’m more of a _Terminator_ guy myself.”

April smirked. “Schwarzenegger fanboy.”

His glare was about as fiery as it was brief, because he grinned so hard the scars above his mouth skewed up on either side. He heartfully accused, “Monster lover.”

April stiffened. Blood drained up into her face like a cracked lava lamp. 

It . . . was not the reaction Raph expected. Then it dawned on him why that might upset her. Then the growing look of horror on Raph’s features made him look sharply away. He wanted to crawl out of his skin to get out of that room right then, or maybe curl up in his shell and wish he didn’t exist.

“Shit, April, I’m sorry, I—that was—” he stammered.

She cut in. “Uncalled-for?”

Raph flinched, but he took the hit that was deserved. “Yeah.”

April sighed as she loosened. She swept a few loose strands of hair back behind her ear. She didn’t really want to look at him; sure, she was upset, and the reason for it was so damn stupid. Because April did love, and she was very open about the place the brothers and Splinter held in her heart, and by some cruel looseness of terminology they did all fit the definition of ‘monster.’ As callous as that was and as much as it made her want to slug anyone who threw it around as a catch-all word for the most disgusting, disreputable instances of the world.

Or maybe it had a little more to do with the person making the accusation than the words themselves.

Maybe more than a little, because the way his tongue shaped around _lover_ had sent a white-hot shot of something down the back of her chest and sent her ribcage stuttering. 

Because, loose or not, Raphael and his brother did fit the definition, and she’d be a lying fiend if she ever told herself she didn’t sometimes let her attention linger on the shapes of their bodies, their hands and feet, sinewy cords of muscle drawn tight as they boxed in the dojo, or the dazzling shine of their scales when they emerged from the lair’s aquatic entry.

April could not deny a particular truth to it. And Raph didn’t exactly mean it as an insult.

“It’s okay. But I guess . . . that would make some kind of sense, though, huh?” April said, feeling suddenly short of air. Like she’d just run a mile. “I’d have to be like that—to be crazy enough to think I could fit in with you guys.”

Raph slowly lifted his head, his expression torn. That was one thing the brothers all had in common: they wore their hearts on their sleeves. “April, that’s not what I . . . you _do_ fit in with us. Not that that makes you a freak, too—you’re _not_ —but I didn’t say it to—”

“Offend me?” Raph averted his eyes, however briefly. “You didn’t, Raph. And I’m not . . . angry. I just . . . I don’t know. But that doesn’t mean—” 

God, what was she thinking? There were a thousand thoughts running through her head, and she knew what it was all culminating towards, and she wanted so badly to say it out loud it hit her with a clarity so sharp and sudden it blazed like stadium lights boring down on her head. Wanted to say it because he deserved to know it. To hear it from the mouth of someone who _meant it_. Because now it was coming up for air, and as clear and real as the weight of her legs across his lap.

She had it bad. So. Ridiculously. Bad. For him. And it stung that this could be coming out now but _god fucking **dammit** he deserved to hear it from her mouth_.

The first time she met the brothers, Raph had hissed out accusations of _freaks_ with such rage it stung like a hand at her throat. She’d been so overwhelmed by it all then. But she learned. She got to know them, and now it answered the thousands of questions coiling in her chest ever since she first realized their names. 

Because now all April could think about in quiet moments were towering silhouettes and a scent somewhere between cool water and a sharp, tangy musk that was So. Definitively. _Him._ Whenever Raph was around. Why she kept leaning into the phantom weight of his arm around her back or picturing the pink sliver of his tongue dance across his lips. The immense lie it would be if she ever said she never thought about those lips some nights, imagining the sheer weight of him bearing down on her, the callouses of his hands she’s felt touch her so casually so many times mapping out her body. When she would say his name, heated and thick with desperate arousal, only for it to dissipate into empty air and all she could do to keep from screaming was to wrap her legs around her pillow and finish herself off.

“—doesn’t mean it—doesn’t explain some things,” she murmured. 

Raphael was looking at her, now. His expression was not an easy one to decipher. Her heart pounded in her chest, but he said nothing. Just watching, waiting for her to speak. Didn’t dare interrupt or stop her but didn’t press her on, either. If she was going, it would have to be under her own power.

So when April moved, Raph put up zero resistance as she got her knees under herself and braced one hand on the wall behind the couch. Vertigo swelled in her belly when this brought them nearly to the same height. She steadied herself. Raph watched. Completely still. Quiet save for his slow, deep breaths. His eyes swept all across her face, reading absolutely everything. Every thought in each microexpression. But April could read people, too, and his gaze was torn between her eyes and her mouth.

“Raph.” She said it low, and his eyes opened the tiniest bit wider when her voice came out husky. She swallowed and tried again. “What I’m trying to say is—I should explain—”

Her hand surrendered its spot on the wall just as Raph turned completely toward her. She went reflexively for his shoulder for support, and on instinct his hand flew to her arm as if bracing her up. Her head swam at the zing of electricity that sent through her. 

“You don’t hafta say anythin’, April,” Raph murmured.

They were closer, now. So close, if they breathed too deeply their chests might touch.

“I do. I really . . . I want to, Raph. . . .”

His gaze danced between her eyes, breathing more quickly now as they soon settled on her mouth. She could not look away from his lips even if she wanted to. Her fingertips glided to the side of his neck, and Raph tugged her arm until she was falling the last of the way into him.

Then, all the world went **black**.


	4. Nerve

In the shock of the sudden dark, the two went stock still. The first few seconds were spent frozen in uncertainty, anticipation of something about to happen, but it tapered off when nothing, _nothing_ did.

“Is that—did we just lose power?” April asked, incredulous.

“Think so,” Raph replied. 

April let out a few swears so vile they could cross a sailor’s legs. Raph chuckled. Extending her hand and guiding herself by memory, April rose from the couch, mindful of the coffee table, and shuffled her way to the counter. There, she found her phone and activated the flashlight. The light was wimpy at best, only able to cast about four feet in front of her, but in the absolute blackness of her apartment it did its job well enough.

“Where they keep your fuse box?” Raph asked.

April started, having not heard him stand up, and pointed the light at the double doors into the laundry room. He went there without waiting for the light, and April heard switches being flicked back and forth.

Raph huffed then shut the panel. “Ain’t your fuses. Must be a blackout.”

 _Fuck._ And in a goddamn blizzard no less. April drew her hand through her hair in absolute frustration. “Great. Fantastic. And I forgot to charge my phone, too.”

April went to her computer desk to turn off the beeping backup battery for her main PC, ensuring the surge had not been enough to damage anything. While she was at it, she made sure her laptop was off to conserve its power, too. Checking the wi-fi, nothing was responding. Annoying, but not a surprise. At least her phone still had signal. 

Right then, a text popped in from Donnie. _is raf w/u?_

She leaned back on the countertop to reply. _Yea were good. The power just went out. You guys ok?_

_all gud here. rlling pwrouts frm strm. grid shud b bac up soon. b saf & stay insid!_

_You too!_

“That the guys?” Raph asked, his outline visible in the castoff glow.

“Yeah, Donnie’s just checking in. He says the storm is knocking out power, but it should be fixed soon.”

He nodded. “This building have backup power?”

April almost wanted to smile. Not at any intended joke, no, because when she moved out of her mom’s place, she opted for the first, cheapest place she could find near enough to Channel 6 headquarters so her bicycle commute wouldn’t be terrible. She’d been warned by a number of people at the time how old buildings were full of problems. Now, it seemed she got what she paid for.

“Nope,” April replied flatly and turned the flashlight off; it would just eat up what meager battery life remained. Instead, she went around by the light of the screen itself, into her bedroom, and proceeded to rifle determinately through the closet.

“Uhh, April? What’re you doin’?” Raph asked, a note of concern in his tone as he observed from the doorway. 

She said nothing, tugging and then shoving things out of the way until she got to a bag stuffed under the spare clothes and yanked it out. She then proceeded to toss its contents at Raph who caught it as it unfurled midair. It was a down comforter, genuine and heavy. And a big one at that. She didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was staring and confused.

“The insulation isn’t the best in this place. Trust me, if the power doesn’t come back on soon, you’re gonna want that,” April explained, simultaneously pulling the panels of her own blanket closed around her shoulders in preparation.

She walked around Raph, not an easy feat considering the amount of room he took up in the doorway, but he sidestepped and she made it by without issue. She went about her apartment with a purpose, crouching before the lower cabinets of a storage bureau and coming out with a white tub that thudded and rattled as it moved. In the peripheral glow of her phone light, April saw that at no point in time was Raphael any more than a few feet away. Hovering, maybe. Perhaps ready to help if she asked.

Yeah, surely it was that.

April cracked the handles open and produced four cylindrical candles of about the same size. She set her phone down to make use of both hands, feeling around until she found the tiny box she needed. A few seconds and two failed strikes later, the first match sparked to life. In the initial flash, Raph flinched and squinted his eyes, but one candle after the other she lit all four and shook the match out. Once the glow in the room was sufficient for life, she pocketed her phone. Raphael looked pleased? Impressed? But when was having a box of matches and some candles really anything to be impressed by?

He was still hovering, though, so she handed one to him. The candle’s wick was old, and it sent up a long stretch of black smoke with its flame. He took it without a word.

“Here. Would you put this one on the coffee table, please?” April asked. 

“Um. Sure.”

But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he watched her move two of the other three candles around the room. With one left in place on the counter, the second she brought further toward the back of the kitchen, and the third she placed in a cleared spot on the entertainment center. Raph almost thought her caution about moving things out of the way was laughable; the candles themselves were very stable and the flames were tiny, but then one of Master Splinter’s metaphors came to mind and he opted not to pursue that line of thought. Instead, Raph placed the candle in the middle of the table as asked, far away from any other object.

April could hardly breathe. She’d run a marathon. Clearly. Or her heart believed she did. It wasn’t pounding as hard as it was when they touched, but standing still she could feel the drag of adrenaline trying to pull her towards the ground, and it made her want to move around while simultaneously left her sluggish and heavy. So she paced around the kitchen and checked the furthest candle. Not much glow, so she moved it again.

She stopped short when she realized the noises in her head weren’t all herself. Raph was speaking.

She froze. “Huh?”

Raph’s brow was drawn and his jaw was tight. He moved where he stood but not forward or back. Weight just shifting from one leg to the other, subtly. Restlessly. He may not have even known he was doing it. Like he was anticipating something about to happen. A chase, or a fight.

“I said—” He began but stalled. That flex again. Bounce on one foot then to the other. She saw him do that before training sometimes, and before the guys went above ground from the lair. His body working up to something. Then, “What was—what was that, April?”

Right to the chase, then. No preamble. No delay. Right for the jugular. That was another thing she always liked about him. Leo always had a plan, Mikey never planned, Donnie planned so much things often never went accordingly, but Raph? It always seemed like he just didn’t need one. He trusted two things most of all: his instincts and his training. He was never afraid to bull headlong into whatever was coming at him.

April took a wimpy breath, tried to shore herself up. The words were all still there in her head, she could see them, grab them up from their scattered piles and fit them back into the order she needed. Needed to make him understand. Or thought she could. But the fire behind it all, it had—smoldered.

She was losing her nerve. _Dammit._

Gripping the edges of her blanket, April opened her mouth to speak, when a sharp _pound-pound-pound_ thudded on the apartment door. Raph’s head whipped around; she about jumped whole out of her skin when the voice from the hallway called out, “Miss O’Neil? Are you awake in there?”

It was building security.

_God—Fucking— **Dammit.**_

Her gaze darted back at Raph, but the turtle had vanished. The only evidence he’d ever been there was the comforter laid over the sofa arm, edges of the fabric still swaying as it settled. Shit, he was fast.

April answered the door with the chain still on, eyes squinted against the glare of the flashlight aimed at her until being lowered. Harvey/Harley/Herman stood there in pale gray uniform—she hadn’t really felt it necessary to learn his name yet; she’d only spoken to him twice before now—and nodded at her too-courteous smile—a smile which in actuality read of brutal, bone-gnawing hostility.

“I’m awake. What is it?” April asked swiftly, praying he would disappear. Or freeze to death under her icy stare.

“Power’s out to the whole building, ma’am. Saw your light was on a bit ago and thought maybe you’d know something. Bein’ a reporter and all.”

Ah. Yes. Because clearly April would know everything within minutes of anything happening anywhere. 

“It’s late, and I’m afraid I don’t know anything. You should call the power company. Goodnight.” She spoke quick and clipped and moved to shut the door. 

“O-oh! Well, best set your faucets to drip a little tonight. No tellin’ how long it’ll take ‘fore the power gets back on. Don’t want your pipes to burst, ma’am.”

“Thank you, I will. Goodnight.”

“Goodni—”

_Click._

She turned the lock and deadbolt with enmity and considered leaving her faucets as they were out of pure spite. To the pipes. To the building. To the whole goddamn universe.

Turning back into the living room, she half expected Raph to be standing exactly where he was a few seconds ago, but he was not. He was nowhere. April sighed and scratched the back of her head from sheer frustration. Taking a seat, this time on the edge of the coffee table itself, she tugged a scrunchy from her pajama pocket and used it to tie back the rat’s nest that was her hair—and wasn’t that a terrible term when Splinter was one of the cleanest people she knew.

She did not hear the footsteps precisely, but five-hundred-or-more pounds of hulking ninja reptile was not easily missed in such a small apartment.

“Friend o’ yours?” Raph asked, glaring at the deadbolted door with such malevolence it was a wonder it didn’t crumble into slivers on the spot.

April made a noise somewhere between an enraged goat bleating and a primal howl. “ _No._ But I think he likes to think so. Everyone who sees me on TV thinks of me as a minor celebrity. ‘Hey, there goes seagull trampoline girl, let’s see if she knows any flamingo yoga.’ _Ugh!_ ” The last part nearly did come out as a howl. God, she wanted to punch the next person who started talking to her about birds. 

But Raphael didn’t laugh. Didn’t crack a smile or tell a joke like she hoped he would. Worst of all, he wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were everywhere throughout the apartment. Floor, ceiling, knickknacks, ceiling fan, windows, kitchen, door. Everywhere.

Except her.

“Raph . . . ?” April whispered. So soft she barely even heard it from her own mouth. But he definitely did.

His fists were clenched, knuckles pulled so taut the scales were lighter around the edge of their bindings. His shoulders were bound up, and his jaw was so tense she could feel the strain in her own teeth. He didn’t look mad, although she could have been forgiven for thinking so. She may not have known him like his brothers did, but he . . . looked ruined. There was moisture in the corners of his eyes, and that hurt so much worse than any of his outbursts ever could.

She wanted to speak, but nothing was coming out. He beat her to it, anyway.

“Am I gonna hafta be the one who says it? Really? I ain’t the one who does the talkin’, April, you know that. I ain’t the diplomatic type. I don’t do the talkin’, I—” He hesitated, voice breaking off. His jaw flexed and he looked like he wanted to hit something. “I don’t, but-but I—‘Cause I really thought you were gonna kiss me for a second there, April, an’ I deserve to know if I was wrong. ‘Cause if I’m not an’ you—and if you were just foolin’, I—I deserve to know!”

The fire in his words tapered off at the end until they came out clipped and broken, and they cut in her chest worse than any shards. He wasn’t yelling. His voice was barely even raised. But she could feel the lump in her chest strangling her alive and wished it would just kill her right then and there.

_I deserve to know._

_If you were just fooling with me._

But then he didn’t need to say it, and April didn’t need to hear it. Because he was right, and he was so, so right about it that it derailed her train of thoughts right off the curve, down the valley, into a fiery plume of shrapnel and smoke and all she could think of was to _be with him_.

She was moving before she ever told her feet to do so. Up and gone. Across the room, open span of empty floor. Distance closed, blanket forgotten in a puddle on the ground. Her arms were barely long enough to reach up, but the look of stunned surprise in his shining eyes was something so vulnerable and new it made her heart clench against her ribcage. Just as unexpected was the way he moved _into_ her and not away. Because Raphael was not a person who could be moved, not unless he wanted to be. But he bent his head to meet her, like he wanted, _wanted_ it to be true, and this time her hands found their spot on the back of his neck, ten fingers laced, and framed his mouth with hers.

April had not once—would never in a million years—operated under the illusion that she could move Raphael. He was too big, too ludicrously strong for her to even dream he could let himself be moved by anything other than his own will. But when she moved, he moved, too. At first, he was frozen. Stock still against her mouth, breathing harsh gasps through his nostrils, but the longer she went without pulling away, without backing down, he began to thaw out. Slowly, stiff and more than a little uncertain. Mirroring her placidity like an answer. 

One hand went to her waist, the other settling between her shoulder blades. Firm but not heavy. She felt the power behind them, unused, tethered. She answered it with one arm raising to wind tighter around his neck, pulling him, tilting up on her toes, and he let himself be pulled. 

His mouth moved, molding to hers. And when April finally drew back it was with eyes wide open and pupils so blown she could have seen him in the pitch dark. His expression looked much the same as hers, and they were both breathing like they’d come back from a fight. Lungs heaving, breath whirling in the small space between them. 

She took his face in both her hands, mesmerized by the flutter of his eyelids when he leaned into her palm. 

April murmured, “When have you known me to be any less than 100% serious about anything, Raph?”

He didn’t answer. Kind of looked like he couldn’t, really. Like he wasn’t firing on all cylinders just then. Warning, system reset. Recalibrating. Restart successful. Initiate rebooting sequence. 

Raph’s eyes darted between hers as they came into focus, searching. For anything other than complete honesty in her words. But to April, truth was and always would be everything. In every story she ever tracked down, no matter how outlandish, who believed it or was even willing to listen. 

Always the truth. Nothing less. 

Never anything less.

“You. . . .” he murmured, not finding a single word for what he wanted to say. 

“I like you, Raphael. Like like. More than a little. Really. I mean it,” she said, face heating, and added for good measure. “Like— _like_ like. For real. I’m serious.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Completely.”

“Absolutely. Entirely. 100%.”

“Wow.” Raph blinked. He grinned a lopsided, breathless little quirk that puckered his scar. He made a noise in his chest, like a half-laugh. Rebooting still in progress. “Gotcha. I think. Just kinda . . . hard to take in? Y’know? I mean, maybe if you did that again it’d be kinda easier to—”

She stopped him short and pushed her mouth back onto his, ending that thought and the train it was on in the gorge alongside the first one.

There was no delayed reaction this time. He sucked in a deep column of breath and looped both arms around her, crushing her against the cool solidity of his plastron. His strength wasn’t really anything new; she’d seen and felt it many times. He’d scooped her up and carried her like nothing to prove a point to a glum Mikey and exasperated Leo, and each time the feel of his muscles pressing and supporting her had played like a phantom over her skin for hours after returning home. 

April knew his strength. Or thought she knew it. Because this was _different_.

He was all around her, and very little of it was playful in that ‘okay, c’mere you’ kind of way she was used to. It was hard and desperate. His mouth formed around hers like his last duty among the living was to kiss her. He held her like a lifeline, fingers pressed into her back hard enough to leave bruises. He kissed like he fought: fast, hard, and blazing with fire. 

God, he was close to crushing her, and all she could think about was getting more of him pressed against more of her. Her hands wandered, grappling as they went. One settled high on his plastron and the other behind his head, half wishing he had his bandana on so she could twirl it in her fingers; April always wanted to do that. So her fingernails grazed the smooth scales on his head lightly instead, and next thing she knew her breath left her in a rush as her back hit the side of the counter, Raph’s insane bulk crowding her in, kissing her with ferocity.

Something narrowly did short circuit in her brain. Because he learned that move from _somewhere_ , and goddamn she wanted to see everything that came attached.

April gave it right back, rising on her toes as both arms looped tight in the space between his shoulders and shell. Holding on for dear life. Lips always moving, shaping and reforming with his until her heart was pounding in her legs, demanding, pleading, and she was using as much teeth on his lips as she dared. Which she _dared_.

Another circuit shorted twice more, and her breath stuttered as one of his arms cuffed her around the middle. The other in one clean sweep sent everything from the countertop toppling into the sink, including the candle which went out in a hissing stutter and smell of burnt wax. She didn’t even have the wherewithal to be miffed about his handling of her things, certainly not when her feet left the floor and her ass landed on the countertop, feet dangling, and suddenly they were level. There was fire in the gold of his eyes that had less to do with the three lit candles and everything to do with the throbbing sting of the bite mark on her bottom lip.

April bracketed his waist with her knees. Raph’s hands flattened on the table framing her thighs. His eyes were dark, ravenous—he looked fucking beautiful.

“Kiss me again, Raph,” April panted.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said in a rush while leaning in, and April met him at the middle, hands flying to cup either side of his neck.


	5. Hurricane

She had no idea how long they kissed for. Hours maybe. Days. Years. Decades. The world ended and the sun exploded and the stars fell from the sky in the time they spent kissing. The only thing more preposterous was the thought they could have only been kissing for mere minutes.

Her hands never left him, but never were they still, either. Roving over his shoulders and chest, tracing the lip of his plastron and fingernails plucking the minute ridges of his shell she could reach. He practically buzzed from it all. The touches, the sounds, her sighs and breath and teeth, the kissing, and April thought it was all in her head until she realized Raph was actually making a noise. So deep she could only hear it as a low, persistent rumble with no clear source. More feeling than sound. It tickled her lips and made her fingertips go crazy.

And somewhere through it all, they managed to simmer down from their initial desperate pawing to a slower, more manageable series of tugs and caresses. April knew without ever having to look her clothes were in disarray. Raph was not exactly gentle by nature. The waistband of her pajama bottoms could barely sit on her hips, slouched so far down one side it dared a peek of pale blue satin hiding underneath. Her top, long-sleeved, as so pushed around it was all but hanging off one shoulder. Her hair had long since fallen from the half tail she attempted to tie it in. She didn’t even know where the scrunchy went. Only that Raph lost one hand in the mess and was distinctly _loving it_. 

God, she could keep this up for hours. Days maybe. Shut off her phone and his shell-cell. Forget the power. Let the snow and ice seal off the windows and let the candles burn themselves out. She wanted him. In her bed. On her floor. The couch. The coffee table. A wall—or four. The kitchen counter even. Hell, she didn’t even care if any of it could support his weight. He could break all her furniture if it meant getting him out of those bindings and that leather kilt and _inside_ her. 

Raph came up for air first. Breaking off with a heavy, shuddering sigh, he pressed his face to her cheek and April splayed her fingers over the smooth dome of his head, breathing in his air. Her mouth hung open, flushed with hot blood and kiss and bite swollen. 

“Should we stop?” he asked, voice hoarse as a beaten man. 

“D’n’t wanna,” she slurred dazedly. He laughed. “But ‘s prob’ly a good idea, yeah.”

Raph nodded, kept his head pressed against hers, and they focused on catching their breath. One hand lifted free of its place on his shoulder fell flat on the exposed skin under her collarbone. 

“My heart’s pounding,” April murmured.

“Mine, too.”

She knew. Her other hand was directly over his pulse.

But he seemed to realize it was there the same time she did. He raised his hand and covered hers, taking it almost delicately, and fanned her fingers out before him and proceeded to lean his face into her palm, eyes drifting closed. His breath, hot and balmy from his nostrils, threaded the divide between her fingers. His lips pressed slow, first to the heel of her thumb, then skipped to the center of her palm. He kissed the mounds of skin beneath her pointer finger, middle finger, ring finger. Took each one slow. Gave it the attention it deserved. Soft as a whisper. Lost in what he was doing.

April’s cheeks blazed as she watched, unable to look away. Mesmerized by the expression of sheer bliss on his face. The heat of her blush sent blood out of her head and color across her shoulders and chest. Her pulse absolutely thundered. Not in her chest, but south of her naval. 

How could he do that? That was entirely unfair. Completely. Soundly. Utterly. The least, most irreputable, unreasonable thing anyone has ever done to her. And she wanted him to _never **stop**_.

“Raph, you’re gonna . . . need to take it easier on me,” she said when her lungs were stable enough to breathe.

“Why?” he whispered, eyes still not quite open. 

“Because I am seriously, _stupidly_ turned on right now.”

Raphael froze.

Maybe not the classiest thing for her to admit, but if she didn’t get a little breathing room soon she was going to need to change her panties, pajama bottoms, and probably resurface the countertop while she was at it for good measure.

Raph drew back enough to look at her, eyes as wide as they’ve ever been, and color blaring across his face.

“I—er—uhh—s-sorry,” he halted, leaning away with such a stiff-armed posture if he were made of wood he would have creaked. 

“Christ, you don’t need to apologize, just—lemme breathe a sec’, okay?”

He nodded stiffly; his Adams apple bobbed when he swallowed. She fought the urge to groan at that, too, and covered her face in her hand. Only she still felt the ghost of his lips there, and she didn’t even fight the impulse to press her mouth to where his had only seconds ago been. Just when she needed a cold shower most, there was a fucking city-wide blackout.

With space in-between them now, April started to realize just how drastic this blackout might be. The temperature of the air had dropped noticeably already. Enough she felt the need to straighten out her PJs and briskly rub her upper arms. If Raph even noticed the cold like she did, he gave no hints. But then he was the type to climb ten stories barefoot in a blizzard for an excuse to keep her company.

An excuse she was, now more than ever, increasingly grateful for. 

Remembering the blanket she so callously dropped on the ground, April inched herself to the edge of the counter. Raph caught wind of her actions and gave her room, but not enough that when she nearly twisted too far and found herself reaching frantically for something to catch herself, he grabbed her hand out of the air and gave her the balance she needed to slide back to her own two feet.

Great. Okay. Her knees were not jellified. Score one for her constitution for holding up to what was possibly the single hottest make out session of her life.

“You good?” Raph asked, noticing the extra few seconds she took to steady herself.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

After retreating briefly into her bedroom, she came out a moment later in a fresh set of white and green camouflage patterned pajama bottoms, these ones far denser than the first, and a ludicrously oversized gray hoodie. Hair freshly brushed, she plucked the blanket off the floor and fanned it over her shoulders. It no longer held any of its previous warmth, but her new layers would help compensate.

April strode to the couch, pointedly not looking at Raphael who was making no secret of watching every move she (and that ridiculously oversized hoodie) made, and took the down comforter from where it’d been dropped. Raph grabbed it from the air when it was tossed his way and looked at it quizzically.

“’M not cold,” was all he said.

“Yet. But I am.” She nodded behind her over her shoulder and patted the sofa arm, smiling gently. “Sit with me? Please?”

He didn’t do anything for a beat. Didn’t really take the blanket, just held it. Didn’t approach her, but didn’t make to do anything else, either. During the time she took to change Raph had put his bandana back on, and April found herself smiling because, now, he looked a lot more like himself with it on. But she could not ignore he hadn’t yet moved. 

Until he gave with a whispered, “Okay,” without ever taking his gaze away from hers. 

Raphael swung the comforter around the back of his shell and pulled it over his shoulders in a single fluid motion. He walked around the coffee table to reclaim the same seat as before, mindful not to sit on the blanket loaned to him. April came around on her own side, but rather than take back her place next to him she took the one she wanted and plopped herself sidesaddle on Raph’s lap. To his credit, his first instinct was to steady her against falling off onto the hard edge of the coffee table. Only secondly did he gawk at the sheer audacity she would have pull this off so brazenly. 

“I told you, I’m cold,” April said as though it were the answer to every question he could ever pose.

“I’m coldblooded.”

“Good. You’ll be thanking me later, then.”

She pulled at the edges of his down comforter until it had effectively cocooned them both inside. April tucked in her stocking feet and her shoulder leaned into the crook of his arm and side. Raph responded by looping the arm around her and locking it with his other. If this was what a caterpillar felt like, sign her up for the metamorphosis. Only their heads poked out the top, and April soon found herself closing her eyes, head pillowed on the soft span of scales above his pectoral.

In the absence of noise—the TV, heating unit, water heater, fridge, ceiling fans—the silence was almost oppressive. Even outside, the usual traffic sounds were muffled, either by absence of people or by the snow itself. Only the wind reared its head occasionally buffeting the window or howling through the rungs of the fire escape. That was all. Save the deep, slow pulls of his breath, her lighter ones, and the drumming of his heartbeat through his chest.

April didn’t realize she was dozing until a hand was very gently shaking her.

“Hey.”

She grunted in displeasure. “Mmph?”

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Mmh.”

“Why me?”

At that, April blinked off the remnants of sleep. Looking up, she offered a confused sort of smile. “’Why you?’”

“Yeah.”

“Why anyone?”

“No, really. Why me? Why not Donnie or Leo or, hell, why not Mikey? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it’s _not_ Mikey, but you like them all, too, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I do. But not—all in the same ways.”

Raph cocked his head. Now it was his turn to look lost.

April shifted enough to sit more upright, exchanging the comfortable slouch to sit properly. Raph’s grip didn’t really change, just his perspective of looking at her.

Freeing her hand from its many layers, April counted her reasons on her fingers for him to see. “I do like Mikey. He’s funny and so nice and heartfelt and always ready to take care of me and make me feel safe and at home in the lair; I’d honestly consider him one of my best friends, but he’s also an obnoxious numbskull, lays the flirt on _way_ too thick—” Raph made a face like he had to give her that one. “—and sometimes his sense of humor could gag a mule. Donnie’s the absolute best, he’s so sweet and smart and awkward in the most adorable way, and he works so hard on all his projects and to make life better for you all, but he’s honestly a little dry and hard to talk to sometimes, and, let’s be honest, he’s completely clueless.” There, again, agreement in his eyebrows. “And Leo, he’s—amazing. Compassionate and level-headed, always thinking about the future and the best ways to take care of the ones he loves. But he’s also . . . kind of intense, and—”

“Wait, wait, waitwaitwaitwaitwait— _wait_ ,” Raph cut in, shaking his head and gaping incredulously. “Leo? _Leo’s_ the _intense_ one? You realize you’re tellin’ all this to the one who singlehandedly—”

She stopped him with an elbow. “Let me finish.” Raph continued to gape, though, mouth askew and forcing her not to look at him so she could go on. “Leo’s _intense_ because he’s focused. So much so I don’t think anything else would matter to him if it meant dividing his loyalty away from his duties and his family. He wouldn’t be nearly as . . . welcoming of the distraction.”

“ _You_ are not a distraction, April O’Neil.”

A sweet sentiment, but April was a realist, and this was one fact she had long ago accepted as truth. She was a distraction, and her presence, inadvertent or otherwise, had led to its own share of mishaps on their missions in the past. Mikey had a scar up his left elbow and bicep and Donnie’s shell had a nasty gash carved out of the right side as testament to that fact already.

“As for my thoughts on _you_ , however,” she went on, and Raph’s face dropped to one of dread expectancy. While she went through her list, she punctuated individual points with light, one-fingered jabs to his plastron, “ _You_ are brash—and rude—and impulsive—and your temper alone could probably burn a hole straight through to the _core of the planet_. You next to never plan out your shit, and it gets you and the guys caught up in even more unnecessary shit, and you and Leo butt heads so often it’s a wonder there isn’t a soap opera dedicated to you two and your _nonsense_ —”

She could go on. Really, April had an arsenal of examples she could pull from the top of her head alone, but Raph had already stopped her jabbing and that temper of his was rearing its head. His glare was genuine and annoyed, because she was poking at literal nerves just to make her point and that sent the annoyance spiraling dangerously close to real aggravation. 

“Okay, okay, _I get it_. I’m an asshole, don’t play nice with others, and can’t keep my cool. Thank you, I’ve been fucking told,” he spat out, squeezing her hand in a way that connotated its fair share of ‘tread lightly here’ which April did not for a second take as a real threat. 

“But I’ve never felt as safe as I do than when I’m with you,” she finished.

Raph stilled, and the magma in him all but fizzled out. April slipped her hand free of his and reached slowly up, giving him all the time he needed to brush her off, reject her, but he never even tried. Her hand smoothed across the plain of his cheek, fingertips following the tattered edge of his bandana.

She whispered, “Once your mind is made up, you’re unstoppable. You love your brothers and your sensei with everything you have, and there is nothing in this world that could stop you from protecting the ones you care about.”

Raph let the air out of his lungs in a slow, shuddering sigh, and his eyes fell slowly closed. 

“Okay. You win. I’ll buy that,” he murmured. Then added for good measure, “’Specially the ‘unstoppable’ bit.”

April giggled. 

Raphael kept one arm looped around her as he unfurled the fingers of his other hand, going down his own list. “So Donnie can’t talk to girls, Leo is too busy playin’ follow-the-leader to give a damn, and Mikey’s sense o’ humor is even worse than mine.” He nodded sagely. Then, his grin rising towards the ceiling, “I can’t wait to crush his little heart.”

April snorted gracelessly and punched him in the plastron this time, not that it really did anything. Raph was laughing too hard to probably even notice.

“Hey, be nice to Mikey; he means well,” April defended. 

“You’re the one who called him a creep.”

“I never said Mikey was creepy. Just that he can be . . . forward sometimes.”

“Some’d call that embarrassing.”

“Well, that he is, but at least he’s good for a laugh.”

Raph shook his head. “Still don’t see how any o’ them couldn’t do you any better.”

Ah. Ah-ahahaha. Words. Oh, dear, words. Because the phrase ‘do [her] any better’ in no way carried a particular connotation with it. And the resolution status of her lady-boner was yet to reach a point of neutrality. Said lady-boner which was currently very much enjoying every inch of hulking, hunky turtle sat beneath it.

To hide that fact, April crossed one knee over the other and settled for a noncommittal tone. “I’ve made my choice and I do, actually, intend to stick with it. _But._ If you think I chose wrong, then by all means, convince me otherwise.” April folded her arms behind her head and lounged back on the crook of his elbow. Batting her eyelashes all pretty like, she endeavored to suggest, “Got ahead. Flatter your brothers to me.”

“Bet none o’ them ever turned you on.”

_**HOO BOY!** _

April shot bolt upright and probably would have fallen clean over were it not for the framework of his arms. “ _OKAY,_ I’m going to bed,” she all but shouted, shoving to get out from between his forearms. 

What ensued next could probably best be described as slapstick. There was shoving and arguing and elbows being thrown as often as swear words. Grappling and reaching and attempts to placate. Eventually, it resolved itself with a solemn vow to never, _ever_ , under penalty of death or dismemberment to mention anything even vaguely sexy or sex related on the same breath as his brothers. Turned out, Raph was fine with those terms. 

“But I, uh, I really . . . uh, really did that? To you? Earlier?” His words came out halting, tinged the tiniest bit with nervousness. Maybe even shy.

All April did to answer was stare.

That color from before crept up the sides of his head, but this time his bandana served remarkably well in disguising its full extent. If a turtle could blush, it had to be that.

She threw the question back at him. “Were _you_ turned on, Raph?”

Raph coughed. Cleared his throat. Hacked and spluttered into his fist a few times for good measure. Because somehow faking the symptoms of death was easier than answering that truthfully. It occurred to April then that, during this entire course of things, their bodies never lined up in a way where she could tell if he was hard. Even now, sitting in his lap she couldn’t tell if he was sporting anything at all. Maybe there was some trick of anatomy she wasn’t aware of. Probably super useful to be able to hide it like that. Or maybe he just had really, _really_ good self-control. Possible, yes. But likely? Eh. A denial kink fit more Donnie’s style, she thought—and immediately regretted it the instant that thought came into being.

“But you . . . you’re not . . . grossed out by it?” he asked tentatively after a pause.

Her eyebrow quirked. “What? Sex? Not at all. I like people, and I like to date, but most of my relationships lately have been kind of casual. Not that it's a preference; it's really not. Just kind of happens in my line of work.” She’d be lying if she ever said the tiny jolt that went through his arm at the s-word wasn’t adorable as all get-out. “Also helps that I haven’t been a virgin since high school, so there’s that.”

Raph blinked.

“O-oh. You’re . . . I didn’t know you. . . .”

A smirk spread slowly across her face. “Don’t sound so disappointed, big guy. Not intimidated by the thought of working with a veteran, now, are you?”

“No! I just—never thought that— _that_ —never thought of you—like that—in that way—before.”

April tilted her head, eyeing the stiffness in his frame and the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

“Liar.”

“I am not a liar!” Raph spat back tempestuously. 

She wanted to push. She really wanted to press him on it. Wanted to wheedle out of him what he really thought of her, because like her he clearly had been sporting this crush for a long time before today. God, she wondered if he masturbated to her. Wondered if he went to his room sweaty and worked up after training or patrols, muscles still alive with post-action jitters, and tried to work the edge off while thinking of her. What were his fantasies? Did he have a collection of porn back at the lair? Did he even watch porn? Would he ever want to watch porn with her? 

But there was something else in the way he’d worded that question. Something that worried her the more she thought on it.

“Wait, were you asking if I was grossed out about sex in general? Or specifically sex with yo—”

That line of questioning died screaming in her throat from the immediate look on his face. How his gaze fell from hers. The look of mounting shame that yanked all those funny, good feelings out of her hands and left her feeling like she’d just fallen into a pit of broken ice shards. 

(She could scarcely imagine what it must have been like to grow up with so little knowledge about oneself, so few questions able to be answered. Splinter must have worked so hard and had the patience of a saint; Raphael wasn’t approaching any of this like a starry-eyed novice, so clearly sex education had been in their teachings somewhere. Having to figure everything out from scratch with little to no precedent or context for the changes they were going through could not have been easy, and the only pictures were diagrams of limp, fleshy bodies that probably looked nothing like them. God, they must have had to figure so much out on their own; it must have been terrifying sometimes.)

Because sex itself was one thing. Sex with Raphael, the walk-talking-500lbs-six-foot-and-change-mutant¬-ninja-turtle, wasn’t just in a different ballpark, it was a whole other type of contact sport altogether. One you’d never heard of where the rules were never written down and no one else had ever played before.

April sat up, using the leather strap across his chest for leverage to pull up onto her knees, legs framing his thighs, and grabbed his face and made him look her in the eyes. Once he did, gaze darting back and forth between them, she leaned up and kissed him so hard and for so long the stars crossed above his head.

She drew away, and once he was clearheaded enough to hear, really _hear_ her, she stated firmly, “Raphael. You. Do not. Unsettle. Me.”

His lip twitched below his scar. “Monster lover.”

“And don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

She kissed him again, and his hands fell swiftly to her waist, bolstering her up as he kissed her back. God, he was a quick study. Where he’d been slow to respond before, Raph now came in hot immediately after her. One large hand slid up the curve of her spine, rucking up the base of her hoodie where it puddled over her thighs. His lips never stopped moving and he tilted his head as she slid her fingers to meet on the smooth span of hide between his neck and shell. He shuddered at the warmth they pressed into him. 

“Can’t believe you’d—actually want me—that way,” he said between breaks with her mouth, voice gone husky. 

“I do. I really—really do,” April muttered. Her breath came quicker with each tiny lapse. Her heartbeat thrummed between her ears, and the sweet ache between her thighs was getting tough to ignore again.

“Yeah? Why?”

That ‘why’ question again. God, did he really want to know that right now? April just pretended like she hadn’t heard and carried on kissing him, thumbs tracing mindless patterns over every scale on his upper body. Feeling that low, subsonic tone again made her spine jump and tingle all the way to her teeth. He drew back slow, and April wanted dearly to chase him down and crowd him against the couch like he’d done to her. Pin him beneath her and track that sound to its source with nothing but her tongue.

Raph’s nose bumped her cheek, drawing in deep pulls of shared air as April absently traced those patterns on the nape of his neck. He looked her in the eyes, searching and expectant, and April realized he actually did want his question answered.

Okay then.

Why did she want him? 

Her knuckles brushed their way under the tails of his bandana. A piece in either hand, she looped the ends in slow, small circles around two fingers. Never took her eyes away from his as the tension ever so slowly built against his neck. He fought it at first, but the slow, consistent tug seemed to get to him more each second.

She repeated the question just to taste it in her mouth. “Why do I want you? Because you, Raphael, are one of the sexiest people I have ever known. Because you’re built like a fucking Mack truck and every time you touch me it feels like my skin is going to melt off my bones.” A fist pressed into her back, pushing her tighter into his plastron, but she wasn’t done. Leaning forward, lips just barely grazing his chin, “I feel like I’m on fire when we kiss. This—sound you make, my skin tingles when I feel it—”

“Subsonic communication. Er. ‘S more of a reflex—or s’what Don says. . . .”

April smirked. Her nose razed a thin line down the column of his throat. Lips puckered, she blew cool air on him; his Adam’s apple bobbed like a cork millimeters from her mouth. She tugged just a little tighter on his bandana. His chin tipped back, eyes shut, mouth fallen slightly open. 

“You taste like a hurricane.”

“April. . . .”

_That’s it. Say my name, big guy._

Her heart thudded sweetly in her chest when her hips pressed hard into his stomach. His spine leapt. One hand flew to her hip, pulled her even tighter against him, and _rolled_. His fist took a handful of hoodie so big it pulled tight across her shoulders, and April gasped like breaking the surface of water. Her mouth dropped open only to have her lower lip captured in a hard, blindly hot kiss. _God, yes, right like that. Let me taste how you’d fuck me, baby._

Freeing one hand to grab at his plastron, she drew back just enough to look into the space between them. He rolled beneath her like tidal waves. Pulled her in like gravity. Jittering static played at the root of her spine where her thighs rubbed on his leather kilt hangings, rivets playing tug-o-war with the seams of her pajama bottoms. Her hips gyrated in tight, calculated circles pressing down on him, but she couldn’t feel if he was hard. Fuck, he had to be; he was practically dry fucking her. 

“Oh, shit. . . . Raph, you . . . make me wanna take care of you.”

“April. . . . Fuck—tell me how you would, girl.” He panted. Vision glazed, the amber in his eyes darkened to hot, molten gold. Sweet as honey and just as tantalizing. 

God, she really wanted to. Describe in every detail how she wanted to lay him out on her bed and frame his head in-between her thighs. Or shove his knees apart right here on the couch and suck his cock until he could no longer stand. And those were just the appetizers. She wanted to be pinned. Taken. Ridden hard and put away soft. She also wanted to lay him out on the floor and ride his cock until he couldn’t so much as see straight. If an encounter between them ended in anything less than a bent bed frame or coffee table cracked in half, she would be sorely disappointed in herself.

He rocked his hips up and a sweet zing of _oh fuck yes_ laced up her core all the way to her brain. April gasped, fingers scrabbling at his chest for balance. She imagined riding an electric bull might feel similar to this.

“Mmm, maybe I sh—shouldn’t. I think I’m gonna pop if you keep— _that_ —up— _mnph_. We should slow down.” That hurt to say. Honestly. Especially when she wanted nothing more than to do the complete opposite of that, but she was not committing to anything like that on night one of—whatever this turned out to be.

Raph’s movements stuttered to a stop with a strangled grunt. “Y-yeah. Sure.”

She smiled sympathetically and patted his plastron. “Bad time not to have a cold shower.”

“You’re fuckin’ tellin’ me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think I’m gonna have to throw these panties away. They really are not salvageable.”

Raph smirked and let out a stiff laugh. April showed some mercy on them both and scooted back in his lap a little, enough that she was no longer wedged up so tight on his belts. Raph looked relieved. He shifted a little where they sat, and to April it was impossible not to notice his attempt at subtly adjusting his kilt straps. 

_Fuck **yes**._


	6. Versus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaagh I'm a sucker for communication!!! Sex is great and all but has anyone ever tried effective adult conversations as foreplay?? AGH SO GOOD

April may have had the decency to change her position back to sidesaddle, but she was not so selfless as to surrender her throne entirely. Plus, the apartment was starting to get super fucking cold, temperatures easily dipping towards what had to be the low sixties, and keeping tucked under the down blanket with Raph was the only thing keeping her from smashing her coffee table to bits and building a fire with the remains. 

She just wished she still had that damn hot cocoa. 

“You gonna live?” April asked while watching Raph roll his neck for the fifth time.

He paused mid-motion, tugged, and she heard a loud pop. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little. . . .” He trailed off, produced a toothpick from who the hell knows where, and proceeded to roll it around between his teeth instead.

“Restless,” she finished for him.

“Mm.”

“Sorry about that.”

Raph smirked. “Don’t be. It was fun.”

“Good. You’re really good at it, you know.” Warmth colored the tips of her ears just thinking about it.

His smirk widened, showing off his teeth. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah.”

“How good? Better’n . . . your others?”

‘Others.’ That word sounded weird coming from him; she was used to him saying it in reference to his brothers—‘the others’—and not to avoid calling her past sexual exploits ‘boyfriends.' April was, after all, no longer dating a single one of them, so referring to them with any kind of dignifying term seemed unnecessary when something had come up lacking in their relationships every time.

“Well, rest assured no one’s ever made me have to throw away my own underwear before, so—” She patted his chest, palm lightly slapping the plastron. It swelled under her hand. “—feel proud.”

“I _do_.”

“You know, you don’t need to compare yourself to the people I’ve been with before, Raph. Trust me. _None_ of them compare.”

He chuckled at that. Leaning back, he fanned his arms out to stretch over the back of the couch, the sides of the comforter slouching on either side. “Don’t feel the need. Just like hearin’ how good I am.”

April rolled her eyes, more annoyed at the breach in the blanket’s warmth than his flagrantly self-serving admission. A punishment was surely in order.

“You like having your ego stroked, huh, Raph?” she asked, tone brimming with lascivious intent. 

April leaned in close, thumbing the lip of his shell’s carapace with one hand and tracing the grooves in his plastron with the other. The tip of her middle finger glided to the center seam with the tiniest bit of weight behind it, just enough to draw his attention, letting the natural map of his body guide her hand downward to a large, natural divot in his plastron. There, she pushed her open palm down hard on the metal ring that served as a makeshift belt buckle. 

She cooed, “I bet I could stroke it so good you’d forget your own name.”

His entire body jolted at the push. His eyes flew wide and he grabbed her wrist so fast it could only be a kneejerk reaction. They both froze, April gawping at the severity of the response, and Raph staring at her like her hand was a taser. She winced as much from the obvious error as from his strength.

“No good?” she asked guiltily.

 _“Too good,”_ Raph grunted, voice strained and pupils dilated. He shut his eyes and breathed sharply in through his nose to regain his composure.

 _Oh. Noted._ She took her hand back as Raph forced himself to loosen his newly bound up joints. The toothpick flicked back around the opposite side as if with a life of its own. Maybe the cold in the room wasn’t such a bad thing after all. 

“Sorry,” he said once he had his voice again.

“Don’t be. I wanted to tease you, not give you a heart attack.” He nodded his head, and April tried to maybe pry a little. For science. “Anywhere _else_ I should avoid?”

“I ain’t showin’ you all my cards just so you can use ‘em to cheat me later,” Raph said, a grin playing at the edge of his mouth. 

Damn. 

She tugged the part of the blanket trying to slip down her shoulder and rubbed her wrist as Raph resituated. His smile dropped into a frown watching her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just got a chill.”

The tilt of his brow beneath his bandana told her that was not the answer he was looking for. So she didn’t fight him when he took her whole arm in his hand and pushed the sleeve up to check it out. A wide section of her wrist and forearm had a red area around it. It looked innocuous right now, but April had a sneaking feeling that in about eight hours that section would be black and blue. Raph’s grab had not exactly been gentle. At least there was plenty good reason to go about the world in long sleeves.

Raph’s eyes widened and his face dropped, frown deepening into the muscles of his neck.

April spoke up before he had the chance to. “I’m fine, Raph, really. It’ll just be a little bruised for a couple days then I’ll be good as new. No real harm done; it’s not a big deal.” She tried freeing her arm so she could put it back in its sleeve; shit was cold.

“April—” He started to speak, but she cut him short.

“It _is_. You think a little bruising bothers me? I slammed my knee in a taxicab once and that was a bigger deal than this, trust me. Or remember when we went sledding down that _mountain_ in a _semitruck_? Or when we all _fell off the Sacks Tower_? All of me—” She gestured over everything with her free hand. “— _all_ of me looked like it went through a pulverizer the next day.” But his frown did not recede, only added memories to the mix. “This is nothing, Raph.”

“Except it was me.”

“It also wasn’t on purpose. I shouldn’t have done what I did without making sure it was okay for you.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about gettin’ hurt around any of us. ‘Specially not me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” she repeated, more emphatically this time. “What did I say about falling off of things? I wouldn’t be a good reporter if the thought of getting banged up kept me from doing my job—or spending time with my friends.”

He looked unconvinced, so she tapped a finger to her bottom lip as a change of course. There, a red, swollen mark was already forming a darker area in the shape of two teeth. 

“Then how is this any different, huh?” she said pointedly. Raph stilled at her meaning. “You definitely meant it _this_ one, but it doesn’t bother you.”

“That’s—different.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“Because I—I got caught up ‘n what we were doin’ and—an’ you acted like you liked it, so—so I— _you bit me first_ ,” he stammered the last part in a rush.

“Yeah, and I’ll bite you again if I feel like it, so watch out, tiger.”

Raph gaped and April laughed.

“You bite me again an’ you’ll have a lot more to worry about from me than hands, girl.”

April grinned and glanced into the space between them. “Promise?”

Color flared across his face, and Raph shifted his arm as if in defense of his body below the midline. Her grin broadened until it stung her cheeks. 

“Don’t make me say uncle, April. You had me hangin’ by a thread a few times back there, an’ I don’t know how much I can take with you, yet.”

Speaking of egos being stroked. She could maybe stand to hear that in detail a few more times. Her mind already filled with the thought of Raph’s hands gripped remorselessly to the slats of her headboard and positively unravelling beneath her. That image would surely require some fleshing out. But later. April was not so ignoble as to ignore a plea for mercy when one was posed. 

“Noted, big guy.”

Raph let some air out of his lungs in a weighty sigh.

“Not too ragged, though? You’ll live?” she asked. 

“ _Ffwoof_ , check w’me again in ten minutes.”

Her mouth quirked a grin and leaned into him. “Don’t check out on me too soon, though. One of these days, I wholeheartedly intend on figuring you out, Raph.”

“‘Figure out?’” He raised one eyebrow. 

She darted her eyes between them again. 

_“Oh.”_ He cleared his throat. “One of these days.”

“Yeah. Tonight is—I think that’d be a little too soon.”

“But you do want to. Do that. With me.” There he went again. The euphemisms were cute, especially the disbelief over the fact that yes, she dearly wanted to jump his shell, but April always preferred the proper phrasing.

“I want to have sex with you, Raphael, yes. I really, really do.”

His nostrils flared and color positively blazed beneath his bandana. She half expected him to call timeout on the spot, but he didn’t.

“Right,” he said tensely. 

“But I actually want to talk to you about it first. If that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

“There are a few . . . important details I believe should be addressed.”

Raph nodded slowly. The gears started turning in his head, already anticipating the biology lesson they were about to hash out. Psychological training kicked in unbidden, and he began mentally and physically preparing for when the past couple hours would be effectively erased from history and never be spoken of again. Surely that was how this was going to play out. Because he and his brothers didn’t come standard with clearly labeled diagrams, and he learned firsthand witnessing a stunned Mikey and the five-fingered handprint on his cheek that April did not always appreciate surprises of the physical variety. 

“Like . . . ?” Raph asked guardedly, kicking the toothpick to the other side and biting into the frayed end.

“I’m twenty-four. You’re fifteen.”

Raph bristled like he’d actually been shot. He shrilled, “I’m _mature_!” But April was obviously not impressed; he went on, “I’m also a turtle, not a human. Age o’ consent ain’t gonna line up the same way.” 

“Definitely. I see. You make an excellent point. I hear there are even species of tortoise that don’t reach sexual maturity until they’re _thirty_.”

“ _Not_ a _tortoise_.”

“Turtle v. Tortoise is not about to be the take-away from this discussion, Raph.”

Raphael had never been to a carnival before, but he imagined this was how to felt to have a meter stick held over his head and be told he wasn’t tall enough to ride.

He growled and plucked the toothpick from his teeth and tossed it. “Fuck, April, whadu’ya want me to do? Ask Master Splinter for a permission slip?” 

“Oh, god, Raph, don’t talk about Master Splinter while I’m sitting in your lap, I just meant . . . I want us to . . . take some time. Figure this thing out for a bit first before we round a corner there’s no coming back from. I’m okay with the physical differences, believe me I am, I just don’t want us to move too fast and you end up doing something in the spur of a moment you weren’t actually ready for.”

That seemed to catch him off-guard. His head tilted slightly. “Something. . . . April, you’re worried about _me_?”

“Of course I am! You’re my friend first, Raph,” April exclaimed, wide-eyed like she couldn’t believe he could suggest the alternative. That she wouldn’t care about his wellbeing. “All this, whatever it turns out to be—you and me—I want us to be able to still be friends, too. I care about you; I _like_ you. A lot. I want to try this, being together. I really do. If . . . if you do, too . . . ?” Her heart brimmed with hope, but the realist in her forced her to quash it down in preparation for the worst.

Luckily, that wasn’t necessary.

 _“Of course I wanna be your boyfriend, April,”_ Raph said in an emphatic rush. Completely serious. Totally. The most serious he’d ever been in his life.

April beamed. Heart soaring, she wanted to kiss him. Remembering that she could, she leaned up and pecked him swiftly on the cheek. He grinned, showing off teeth.

She went on, “No matter what this turns into, I still want us to be friends. I don’t want anything to compromise that. You’re too important of a figure in my life to risk losing you over—” _The chance of this not working out._ That felt like a cruel thing to say in the moment, the equivalent of a jinx, but the possibility was not a fact she wanted ignored when such a huge chunk of their lives could be at stake over it. Luckily, Raph understood. She laid her hand on his forearm and thumbed a circle around a fine cluster of scales. “I get that mistakes are going to be made, I’m ready for that; there’s going to be a lot of firsts here—for both of us—but I don’t want to _hurt_ you. Or our friendship. Or make things so awkward between us that it risks involving the others. I especially don’t want to make you regret any minute of being with me.”

“April. . . .”

He looked at a loss of what to say, and April felt her cheeks going hot, so she looked down. “I’m kinda rambling and I’m sorry, but I’ve dealt with confusion over lack of communication before and it’s the _worst_ ; it ruins great things and I don’t want any of that to happen here. I don’t want to mess any of this up; I care about you and your family and I don’t want to risk something getting between any of that and—”

“Can I kiss you again?”

April snapped back to look at him. Raph looked kind of desperate. Eyes wide and jaw tight. Like he might pop out of his shell. She smiled shyly, a little confused over him even needing to ask. 

“Of course you can. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Good,” Raph said quickly.

One hand went to the back of her neck, cradling it in one enormous digit, and hauled her in as he bent down. April went with it happily. His lips covered hers, passionate and firm, as her arm slid up behind his head to hold him in place. This wasn’t just him reacting to her kisses. This was _him_ kissing _her_. Lips forming around her mouth, moving confidently. Hand to her back and the other finding purchase on her knee where it stayed. His tongue swiped over her bottom lip and sent lightning through her veins.

He pulled back far too soon for her liking, and it took April more control than she’d ever admit not to physically moan from the loss. She opened her eyes slow, feeling lightheaded and pleasantly drained.

“I’d like to wait. To go further, I mean,” he said, so close she felt the shapes of the words against her ear. “Kissin’ you, touchin’ you like this, it’s nice. ‘S enough for me. I’d like to get to figure you out, too, April. Slow as you want.”

She smiled and touched her nose to his cheek. “Slow as _we_ want. Communication.”

“Right. Thank you for carin’ enough to be worried about me.”

That earned him a much firmer kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Raph chuckled at the sudden giddiness that ran through her.

“You ain’t worried you might regret doin’ somethin’ with me, though?” he asked. “Lotta’ firsts. Like you said. Lotta’ things that might . . . freak you out.”

“Everything has a first time. And with _you_? Please. I know what I want, Raph. When I want it, and you’re ready for it, we’re going to bring this whole fucking building to the ground.”

He whistled to that and fell in to kissing her again.


	7. Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is keeping safe and doing alright with this whole COVID-19 deal. For all those being affected (be it through sickness, stress, family mayhem, quarantines, and financial hardships), my heart goes out to you in this stressful and confusing time. Even if there is next to nothing I can do to help, I hope I can offer a distraction, a laugh, or a reason to smile.

A sleepy kind of comfort lapped gradually over her like waves as they remained together on the couch, comforter drawn in close around them both. Her head remained pillowed on his chest even as April fought the heavy pull of gravity on her eyelids. Twice she caught herself nodding and changed her legs around in an effort to chase her sleepiness away.

When Raph drew her back from a third time nodding, rubbing her arm gently up and down, she knew there would be no more use fighting it.

“You should get some sleep,” he murmured, his face pressed against her head. 

April hummed a quiet concession, no longer willing to fight the fact when she thought she could black out any second. She’d been on call most of the week because of work on recent Foot Clan activity, and a long day on her feet and combing news boards at Channel 6 had just sucked the last of the wind from her sails. She’d been planning on an easy evening when Raph arrived on her window, and everything after was a rollercoaster of relaxation, friendly banter, and I’m-so-horny-I-could-explode. April was entirely depleted. 

She looked up at him. The glow of the candles had dimmed markedly with the length of their burn; he looked warm in the softness of that glow.

“Will you stay the night?” she asked.

Raph wanted to, but he seemed a little unsure if that was the best decision. _I know what I want_ played through his head a couple times. _You’re my friend first. . . . I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t ready for._

“Sure. If you’re sure about it,” he replied softly. 

April nodded. Sitting up off his chest, one of her arms went out one way and the other splayed opposite, a shudder of releasing tension running through her as she stretched. Her legs got the same treatment and, once she was on her feet, so did her back. The stretch seemed to redirect fuel back into her tank because she pulled her plush throw back up over her neck, grabbed the candle from the coffee table, and made for the doorway to her bedroom.

When Raphael didn’t follow, she turned back, a hand lingering on the white doorframe.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

Raph tensed a bit. Because the prospect of sleeping in April’s bed with April was one that had breached his thoughts on a number of occasions before today, many, many times including a certain entanglement of limbs, and he’d be lying if those thoughts weren’t magnified now that he knew what her lips tasted like and that she shared his feelings. Luckily, snippets of their last conversation cushioned those ricocheting thoughts, and he tempered his expectations. 

He stood and followed without a word. 

She set the candle on a computer desk adjacent the bed; the sheets were jumbled and the pillows (which there were many) were piled in a giant mound near the middle of the headboard. She clearly never made her bed, and something about that was weirdly charming.

April tossed her bedding into a semblance of order and climbed in, legs tucked under many layers. Raph remained mostly still just inside the doorframe, eyes wandering about the poorly lit room but, she figured, seeing everything just fine.

“You sure about this?” he asked tentatively. 

“That I have no desire to sleep on the floor or couch in my own apartment and also don’t want you to freeze because you can’t make your own body heat? Positive.”

Raphael seemed as though he had something to say to that but thought better of it and came over. Size wise, the bed looked big enough to fit them both, but the question was if the frame could handle the weight. He tested it with a hand first, pressing down with strength, and was instantly mesmerized. His hand all but vanished into the half dozen layers of sheets, throws, and comforters; damn, April did not mess around with her cozy things. None of it held any warmth right now, but if their time spent on the couch was any indicator it would not take long for her to change that. 

His answer came when Raph was halfway into pulling his second leg up and the metal frame groaned threateningly, the opposite side tipping up while beneath him sagged much too low. April’s hands went outward reflexively for support, and her smile dropped. 

Raph backed off right away. “’S okay. I can just sleep on the couch.”

“Raph, you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, April. Really. It ain’t a big deal.” 

No matter how he tried to brush it off, Raph couldn’t quash down the little pang of disappointment. And April was not having it. That stupid frame was the only issue; it predated the turtles to a time when she’d been saving up for her own place, so cheapness had been its selling point at the time. All they really needed was to get the lousy frame out of the equation; ugh, if only there was enough room in her bedroom to take the mattress off and—

Light bulb.

“I’ve got an idea,” April said in a rush. She flung herself out of the heap taking most of the pillows with her and darted past him into the living room. 

Bewildered, Raph kept his distance to watch.

April grabbed the coffee table by one end and dragged it with its contents backward into the kitchen. The legs squeaked horribly once they hit the linoleum, and she cringed an apology for her downstairs neighbors but did not slow her course. Back to the bedroom, she yanked the blankets off then tossed the remaining pillows to a pitiful heap on the floor.

Grabbing her end of the mattress, she nodded at the side closest to Raph. “Grab that end; help me move this.”

His own light bulb went off in that instant, and he wasted no time doing his part. April was caught briefly off guard when he took the lion’s share of the weight without so much as batting an eye, nearly pulling the whole thing out of her hands, so all she needed was to guide him where it would go. A second trip from them both retrieved all the blankets and a sizeable number of pillows, and a third came back with the candle.

April plopped down near the middle of the side she claimed, one knee half curled beneath her and the other stretched out over the floor while tying her hair back in a loose ponytail. The candle sat balanced on a ceramic dinner plate on the nearest couch cushion; her fingers had chilled from moving through the cold apartment, so she tucked them under her armpits to regain a little warmth. She looked up at Raph, head craned back just to see him. By the way he scanned the situation over, this was a good compromise. 

“You coming, big guy?” April asked, a smile playing at her lips. She patted the spot next to her in invitation. 

Raphael chuckled, but first he went around the room and extinguished the other candles. Coming back to the meager, orange glow of the last, he started unbuckling straps and slipping out of the simpler bindings on his arms and legs, figuring April wouldn’t be as appreciative sleeping beside someone who was still decked out in day-to-day ninja attire. His shin and foot wraps came off next, and when his hands went to the metal ring holding his kilt in place, he noticed April had been openly staring the entire time.

She noticed him noticing her; Raph smirked. Fire engine red blared from her cheeks to the tips of both ears, and she quickly looked away. Rivets clattered on the floor and with a quick kick everything was brushed out of the way of the bed.

The bed bounced considerably as Raph lowered himself onto it. So close April could reach out and trace the ridges, valleys, nicks, scars, and whirling patterns on his shell. Not knowing if there could be an etiquette to a touch like that and remembering his want for mercy, she kept her fingers to herself and settled for looking at the parts of him that were now bare. Raph’s sunglasses next joined the pile of straps and binding, sailing to land on top of it all with a simple flick of the wrist. Only his bandana and a red fabric loin cloth remained, beneath which April thought she glimpsed the hem of a pair of boxer shorts.

“Are you gonna be warm enough in that?” April asked, watching him rest his forearms over his knees.

“What, like I had much more on climbin’ up ten stories through wind an’ snow? Might as well be Cabo in here.”

April smiled and tilted her head. 

“You’ve never been to Cabo, Raph.” 

“Nah, but you’re hot enough to make up for it,” he smirked.

She blushed. “Kiss me?”

But Raph was already turning to face her. “Like you’d even hafta ask.”

April took his arm when he reached for her, and her hand followed its guide to cradle the back of his head. His lips met hers, and the slow, sweet press sent coils of butterflies leaping inside her stomach. His giant arm looped behind her back, encouraging her closer, and April walked the last of the distance on her knees. Her fingers glided across his firm hide until his neck was framed in either hand, thumbs plying the edge of his jaw, feeling the minor flex of muscles there as his mouth moved in compliment to hers.

The kiss remained slow, unhurried. Never enough to get them riled, yet it didn’t need to. The taste of him didn’t diminish with its deliberateness, was no less intoxicating without the desire to stick her tongue down his throat. Her fingertips played with the knot of his bandana, coiling the tail around the tip of her finger while tracing circles on his shoulder with her thumb. His palm flattened on her lower back, pulling her flush with his plastron and bunching the loose, gray fabric between his fingers. Raph tipped his head ever so slightly, and April fell deeper into the kiss, breathing in his air through her nose in deep, greedy pulls. 

She broke once just to kiss him again. The feel of her lips meeting his, warmth lingering on them from the kiss before. Then twice, three times separating by millimeters just to come back again. Raph leaned more and more each time she drew away, chasing her lips, her touch, and his breath shuddered out of him when her mouth found his and pulled him with his lower lip held lightly between her teeth. His skin buzzed with that sound, and her fingertips tingled, drawing him along as she slowly sat down. One hand fell onto the mattress to brace himself up, and April continued to gingerly pull, kiss by kiss each lingering a tiny bit longer than the last, to guide him as she lowered one arm to slow her own descent.

Downward, she drew him in. Her legs uncurled, brushing his knee with her ankle as he climbed further up the bed. Kiss after kiss. One to each corner of his mouth, lingering for a second longer on his scar, then a firmer press back to the center. His lips parted then, and Raph cemented her in place, deep and hard. Her mind short circuited with a breathless gasp. Through her defenses, a moan crept up and past their lips, fingertips splaying behind his head overtop of his bandana. Heat blossomed low in her belly when her head met the swell of a pillow, his hand found hers, and she laced her fingers with his larger ones.

Raphael rose onto his elbow and drew back, far enough April had to open her eyes to see him. His eyes searched hers in the dim light, half-lidded as his breath came faster than before; his lips were slightly apart, and they shone with a wetness mirrored on her own. 

“You okay with this? Just . . . kissin’ you like this?” he asked, breathy and hoarse.

“Yeah. I am,” she whispered. Leaning up, Raph met her brow to brow, and for a moment it was enough just to breathe each other in. “Maybe pull the blankets up a little, though.” 

He chuckled, teeth shining in the candlelight, and with some tugging, arching, and shuffling later Raph was pulling the thickest layers over them both, covering every inch from stocking foot to shell. Topping it all was the down comforter; they were beneath a solid several pounds of layering by the end. April sighed contentedly and bundled herself beneath him. She curled her hand behind his shoulder and stretched up, inviting him in, and Raph did not hesitate to take it. He lowered himself on one arm, his mouth finding hers again with one swift peck followed by another, then another and more until April was giggling at all the attention. 

She laughed his name and felt the shape of his smile on her skin, chasing after him to kiss him in retaliation. She grabbed a layer of bedding and pulled it up and over their heads, sealing them off from the cold air and the dim candlelight. She bent one knee up for leverage and raised up on one elbow, catching him with a firm, unshakable kiss. Her hand returned to the back of his neck for good measure, ensuring he could not escape her this time.

Raphael shuddered, and her spine leapt when his hand found a place on her side and slid along to her back, bunching the hoodie fabric up her side and tugging it just enough to pull the hem past her midline. April shivered from the exposed skin, but not due to any kind of cold. His leg brushed between hers, accidentally given the near instantaneous jerk back, but rather than be shy April hummed approvingly.

“’S okay, Raph,” she whispered into the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay to touch me if you want.”

She heard him swallow and stroked his cheek when he nodded.

Raph’s limbs moved slow, but April never tried to hurry them. Just waited for the nudge of his knee and answered it with a gentle caress of her ankle against his calf. Bolstered by the encouragement, Raph curled his body, moved confidently into her, and April sighed into the warmth clinging to his mouth as they entangled further, winding her legs around his.

The turtles were all large, this she knew without the vaguest shadow of doubt. Only Michelangelo stood anywhere near her height, and April still had to look up just to talk to him. Like this, however, the perspective of exactly how _big_ Raph was truly dawned on her. He could curl all the way around her and still have room to reach his toes. He was also _heavy_. At no point did the full extent of that weight bear down on her, but April still felt the bulk of him on the parts of their bodies that touched, and if the dull, slow pulses between her legs was any indicator she wished he would put a lot more of that weight into other parts as well.

These facts she kept to herself and instead focused her attention on the movement of his lips. He’d returned to their slower pace. A coolness seeped through her clothes where they touched, but before long in the ambient warmth beneath the covers the cold dissipated into a comfortable glow across her skin, fingers drifting over his hide to chase away any last remnants of cold still lingering on his scales.

With no inlet for the cold air to invade, the warmth slowly grew between them, and the tighter coils of muscle in Raph’s body began to release. Bit by bit. Tension she didn’t even realize he was holding and would never have noticed without so much of his bulk surrounding her. He sighed a long, slow breath out his nostrils, hot air from his lungs causing the skin of her cheek and neck to tighten into gooseflesh, and the last remnants of stiffness left his frame. Raph’s movements went loose after that, almost sluggish with comfort. 

When Raph withdrew this time, April did not chase him. A blanket of calm settled over her, and the sleepiness that was creeping in before now hit her with a vengeance. Her eyes, closed from kissing, did not reopen, and she laid her head back on the pillow.

“Go to sleep,” Raph murmured into the top of her head.

April hummed a wordless acquiescence. She drew his legs in and curled hers over and around them, blanketing them however she could, and smiled as he responded by bringing himself in ever closer. She found his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and remained holding it as she turned her head, nestled beneath his chin, and was out nearly that same second.

* * *

A snap glare of red-tinted pain lanced her eyelids, yanking her from sleep. A spluttering hum followed the same second as an electric cacophony of voices, dragging her further from the warm weight of sleep. April translated her sleep-muted fury into a displeased and vile moan; she hated being such a light sleeper.

An answering groan beside her echoed the same sentiment. April winced when she tried opening her eyes and instead tried to bury her head under Raph’s shoulder.

“P’wer’s back,” Raph grumbled, voice thickened from sleep.

“ _Mmmngh_ , thank god,” April muttered.

She was markedly less thankful when Raph disentangled himself from their cluster of limbs and got up, leaving a blank spot in the bed so big she felt its emptiness like the drop-off of a continental shelf. A wall of frigid air invaded their haven when he got out from under the blankets. She groaned louder in protest to it all and heard a chuckled reply from somewhere else in the room. 

As he moved about the room, lights systematically went out. The TV, too. He paused somewhere at the wall, let out a few choice cusses, and April heard the thermostat being clicked through its settings. Lastly, the floor lamp switched off with a tug, returning them to near total darkness. April reached for him the instant Raph knelt to climb back under the covers. Her insistent grabbing and tugging earned her an amused apology which she paid zero attention to, for the moment only interested in the mountain of warmth he represented. Raph settled back in, tugging the covers up and over while April shoved her body in tight to his plastron like she was trying to merge them together in the dark. His apology for leaving came as a kiss to her shoulder.

Raph reached over her. The candle hissed as it was pinched out, and April smiled appreciatively once the weight of his arm settled over her side. Her hoodie had managed to ruck itself up over her naval during sleep, and when his hand met bare skin Raph froze, hesitated briefly, and tugged the hem down to where it belonged. She kind of wished he’d left it; cold as it was, she would have liked to feel his body against her skin. (Where was that sense of decency earlier when he plucked her up by the hips and set her on the counter to make out with like a veteran porn star? Given some time, she hoped maybe they would reach a point Raph wouldn’t hesitate to lay claim to a few patches of bare skin.)

Their legs came back together in a loose tangle, and April staked claim over the crook of his elbow as her pillow this time and nestled her head into the space between his chin and chest. If he minded at all, Raph gave no hints and made sure to pull her in even closer.

Nothing was said. Didn’t need to be. The only sounds between them were the soft in-and-outs of their breaths while, elsewhere in the room, the heater chugged laboriously back to life.

Not that either cared. They already had all the warmth they needed.


	8. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless everyone who has given their kind words of support for this fic. I'm very proud of how it's turned out, and if it's been able to bring even a single person joy then it's all been worthwhile <3
> 
> The next installment will be the final chapter. I didn't even intend for it to turn out as long as it has, but now I'm invested and I sincerely look forward to doing more with this pairing in the future!

Over years of repetition four, five, or even six times a week, work left April hardwired as an early riser. Stories formed and people needed to be tracked down as early as they themselves woke up, so being a good reporter often meant already being awake in time to intercept them. 

Due to this, April found herself stirring out of a dreamy haze, mind still clinging to the pleasant imaginings of lips at her throat, a taste of spring rain, and the smell of reptile musk and faded Old Spice. Not until the fog faded and her sleep-heavy limbs regained life did she realize just why that last part stuck with her so vividly. 

In the low, gray light of early morning glancing in through the window, Raph was a sight. His bandana had come up a little on one side, one long tail flung diagonal across his face like an arm, and his mouth hung open through steady, gravelly breaths. She thanked whatever powers that were he wasn’t a snorer; with her last partner, the sex had been great, but, among other issues, she found it impossible to get comfortable with someone who sounded like a steam train coming into station. 

He looked peaceful. None of the usual flares of quick temper or emotion to purse his lips or furrow his brow. His arm was heavy and loose across her back. His chest swelled each deep breath, and April found herself smiling as she committed the sight of him—“charmingly rumpled” seemed like a fair description—to memory.

Careful not to disturb him, April indulged herself by rising on one elbow and placed the ghost of a kiss on his cheek.

Raphael smiled. She blushed.

“ _Mmm,_ mornin’,” he hummed.

“Good morning. Did I wake you?”

“S’all good. Nice way to wake up.”

Raph lifted his head and rolled his neck, a bit of stiffness in the movement. The usual gold of his irises was darker in the low light, but they found hers without issue.

“Sleep okay?” she asked. 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Raph untangled his calf from her ankles in order to stretch out, legs first followed by arms. Turning on his stomach, a series of joints popped all in a long row, and April wasn’t sure if they sounded painful or not. By his expression, it was total ecstasy. 

Raph hummed while burying his face and arms back into a cluster of pillows. 

“Never done that b’fore,” he murmured. 

“Which part? The passionately making out part or sleeping in a girl’s bed on the first date?”

He grinned at the memories that must have brought up. “Yeah.”

Her chest shook with laughter.

“Nice hair, by the way,” Raph said, looking up at her.

April’s hands went reflexively to her head and discovered that the hair tie had slid down during the night—as was its custom—and set her hair free in a loose cacophony. Strands were now thrown in jumbled, sideways clusters mostly centered on the side she slept on. April untangled the hair tie from its snags and tried smoothing whatever she could back under control. Before she could tie it back, Raph stopped her. She waited for an explanation, but his hand went over hers and cupped the nape of her neck through the cascade of tangles. 

“Don’t. ‘S cute,” he murmured. 

Black strands overlapped his digits in unspooled chaos. April would have protested since any small movement could have yanked a thousand snags, but that thought fizzled out when he leaned up and kissed her cheek. Then the edge of her jaw. Then to the valley of tender skin between her ear and neck, and down further, inch by kissed inch as she closed her eyes and tilted her head, giving him all the room he needed to do whatever he damn well pleased.

What began as a gentle flutter under her skin swiftly graduated to a dull, bone-deep pounding within her ribcage. Her breath came quicker. Shallow gasps rising faster. When his mouth reached her pulse, he stayed there for a long several seconds, cradling her head in his large hand. It dawned on her he was feeling her heartbeat through his lips. 

He practically tasted the thunder in her veins.

 _“Raphael,”_ April gasped shakily.

He withdrew millimeters from her skin, words ghosting hot and balmy against her flesh. “Should I stop?”

“Don’t you _dare_.”

As if the current of bright red electricity in her was contagious, Raphael went right back to her throat with a veracity that would have startled her were she not soaking it in like a fresh spring rain. Her muscles turned to jelly under his touch, and when April fell back onto the mattress, Raph came with her. He kissed the line of her throat like he was mapping her out, lips many times returning to the skin over her pulse. Her head tilted further, unable—and unwilling—to disguise her moans when his mouth was right there, his lips tingling as they formed a circle over the center of her throat, feeling her vocal cords sing.

April swallowed. Exhaled shakily. His lips rose by a millimeter over her center to look at the spot of shining skin in the shape of his mouth; Raph pursed his lips and blew a line of cool air on that spot. Just to see what would happen.

_Oh._

_**Fuck.** _

Every inch of skin tightened as a remorseless wave of _oh, baby, fuck me right now_ scattered from the backs of her eyes to the tips of her toes and settled in a pounding throb at the junction of her thighs. April felt herself grow wet as Raph kept kissing her, tugging the shoulder of her hoodie to expose more of her neck to him, entirely unaware that the wiggling of her hips was her body screaming to be split open by him.

She bent both knees and mashed her thighs together, half in an attempt to get the friction she craved and half to quash down the impulse to throw her legs around him and grind up on his crotch until she came.

At some point amidst the shifting and groping, April’s head fell backward off the edge of the mattress, hair pooling on the floor among layers of cast-off bedding, and Raph all but made love to her throat. While moving her legs, her knee bumped hard on the edge of his shell. His hand shot out and grabbed it, moved to cup the back of her thigh, and _squeezed_.

April felt her pupils blow. She shuddered so hard, for a dazed second April thought she’d just come. The air left her lungs in a quaking, moaned rush, and she finally remembered she had body parts beyond her neck and groin.

Both her hands flew to either side of his head, gripping so tight her fingernails caught in the scales at his nape, and hauled herself up to his level. She had barely enough wherewithal to register the dark shine of wanting in his eyes when she kissed him, fast and hard. Mouths apart, she kissed him so deep their teeth clashed and she tasted his tongue—

Stale and sleep-sour.

The resulting kick to her libido registered more like a truckload of ice water, and she broke off and blanched. Raph suddenly seemed a little extra green around the edges.

“Oh, God—Jesus, Raph, your breath—”

“Don’t kiss me before you brush—shit— _fuck_ , April—”

They exclaimed in unison, suddenly struggling to get as much distance from each other’s tongues as the bed physically allowed.

April swallowed back on the taste of his spit for a bit, trying to wash it out with her own, and once her mouth was livable again her gaze met his. Raph paused mid mouth-wipe, and there was something about the authenticity in his appalled expression. The speed at which things could go from _necking your significant nearly to orgasm_ to _get your disgusting mouth off of mine_ saw April first, then Raph not far behind, grinning and falling over in uncontrollable fits of laughter.

* * *

She heard the faucet turn off in the other room over the burbling coffee maker. Raph emerged a few seconds after thumbing the last bits of moisture from the corners of his mouth. He sniffed the air and hummed approvingly. The apartment was filled with the smell of fresh coffee and microwaved breakfast burritos.

“Smells good,” Raph commented.

April hummed in agreement, too engrossed in her own cup of coffee at the bar to speak, and she knew he wasn’t really looking for a response anyway. The coffee and food didn’t quite taste right after brushing her teeth, but then she wasn’t drinking it solely for the experience.

Without pause, Raph took the giant novelty mug (which she’d cleaned out for him to re-use while he brushed) and poured nearly the whole carafe into it. This kind of annoyed but did not surprise her, neither did his combing through cabinets until he found the sugar packets and plates, and April told him what shelf she’d moved the creamer to in the fridge; he took three burritos for himself and practically crammed them into his mouth.

All the brothers including Splinter had visited her place a number of times; they thought of her apartment like a second home, something she was very encouraging of even if they weren’t always the cleanest of houseguests. A couple things had been broken early on in their visits courtesy of a play brawl between Mike and Donnie, and April was forgiving because they were her friends, but when the rules were laid out after that Splinter reminded them all of their manners, and thereafter the guys treated her things with greater respect.

So, Raph knew where to find everything, and he even washed his plate in the sink once he was done.

Raph stood casually in her kitchen, ankles crossed and shell leaned on the counter across from her. The glow of the fluorescent lights afforded him a strange kind of illumination. Maybe she just wasn’t used to seeing him under a good light source, but she thought his scales looked so pretty.

He sipped his coffee only for his lip to skew up in disgust and added more sugar. 

April bit her lip— _ow,_ still tender—to keep from laughing and scrolled through her text feed, phone back on the charger and no longer feeling the chill in her fingers. Vern had blown her up during the night. Apparently, there was a story at the zoo over the new polar bear cub’s first snowfall, and he was keen that they would be the ones to get footage of it rolling around and romping through it all cutesy like. But that was three hours ago, and the last message he sent included a sad face that Channel 11 not only got the morning spot with that same idea but also included a bit on the penguin exhibit, too.

April closed her texts without replying and shut the screen off. Raph was in quiet observation over the lip of his mug.

“Do you have any plans for today?” April asked, far more interested in the daily goings-on of the resident mutant ninja clan than fluffy birds and bears.

He shrugged. “ _Mmn,_ prob’ly track down those Foot goons later. Mike said he’s got a hunch, and Leo’s so out of ideas he’s willin’ to try it.”

“Splinter’s okay with you guys going above ground during the day?” she asked, brow furrowed curiously. That was a surprise. Last she heard, Donnie got reamed out in the _hashi_ just for going up to scavenge parts for the satellite dish.

“It’s to do with the Foot, so he’s okay so long as we’re smart about it an’ keep to our training. Plus, Don’s got winter skin or some shit he wants to test out.”

April nodded, too. Not many ordinary people would be out the morning after a blizzard, and winter camouflage sounded like a great idea. And maybe if the guys left any goons they found tied up in the open like their normal MO, she could conveniently show up to interview the arresting officers in time to film them being taken into custody. The city was always hungry for reports on the local ‘vigilante’ working to clean up city streets when no one was looking.

“Be safe out there, okay?” April said. It came out before she had the chance to really process the phrase or how it sounded coming out.

Raph smirked, and the way it made his scar lift made her want to kiss it. 

“Hey, no worries, we’re the professionals. You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout us. It’s those Foot guys who should be thinkin' twice,” Raph said confidently while crossing one foot over the other. 

“The Foot can get their asses kicked all day long for all I care, but I’ve only got one badass vigilante turtle for a boyfriend.”

Raph’s eyes widened and eyebrows shot practically to the ceiling. For the split second he gawped in stunned silence, April snorted and had to set her mug down so as not to spill. That expression on him was just not something she thought she could ever get used to. Raph composed himself, color still present on the lower half of his face, and walked around the counter towards the bar. Placing his mug down along the way, he stopped inches from where she swiveled to face him.

“’Boyfriend’?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Ain’t there a . . . I dunno’, a grace period it takes before we can call each other stuff like that?” he asked, sounding uncertain of his own words.

April raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer I not call you that?”

Raph stiffened but not severely.

“N-no, I—I’m cool with it, _trust me,_ I just thought—” He stammered out, suddenly unsure of what he even wanted to say. “Thought, uh, maybe you . . . wanted to do a little more couple-y things first before you’d wanna start callin’ me that?”

“’Couple-y things?’” April repeated. She tried. So hard. Not to laugh. She didn’t want to make him feel foolish or offend him. But, damn, that was just so freaking cute.

“Yeah. Y’know, like, date a little? Take you out? Make it official? I mean, I can’t take you to a fancy restaurant or nothin’, but there’re some views o’ the city you’ve probably never seen I could show you.”

April found herself torn. Goddamn, how could so much turtle go from sex icon to drop-dead fucking adorable that fast? She leaned her arm on the counter.

“Pretty sure that heartfelt conversation we had, making out for literal hours, and me admitting I want to jump your shell counts towards making us official, Raph. No sightseeing or dinner dates necessary,” she smiled.

Raph stood so straight. His shoulders squared and chest puffed out so far she thought he might actually achieve liftoff. The corner of his mouth raised in a gleaming grin, and she _really_ wanted to kiss that scar.

“Heh. Guess you do know a lot more ‘bout these things ‘n me, huh?” he said, sounding short of breath.

She hummed, propped her elbow on the counter and her cheek on her knuckles. It was hard not to enjoy the thought of doing those things and legitimately impossible not to find him charming as hell for wanting to. Even if they did sound like dates straight out of a sitcom, she could picture sitting on a rooftop with him and gazing out over the city’s skyline. It looked so nice in her head. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, hotshot. It’s sweet of you to want to do that for me. Really. Thank you, but I know what I’m signing up for by wanting to be with you,” she said. “I don’t need to be taken around the city to feel like you want to spend time with me—much as I’d love to show you off. Sometimes a little goes a long way, and I’m sure we’ll come up with other ways to do ‘couple-y things’ together.” 

Raph looked a little dazed as she spoke, then asked, “Anything in mind?”

“How thorough are Donnie’s maps of the city?”

_“The best.”_

April smiled. “Stick with me, padawan, and I’ll show you the wonders of the galaxy.”

“Movie nerd.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Raphael.”

“Don’t tell me to—” There was no malice in the words, but she cut him off anyway.

April grabbed the lip of his plastron and drug him down to her level. She craned her neck up, and he met her the last of the way, quick and deep. He framed her lips with his, and April let her breath out in a warm, balmy cascade down his cheek. He tasted like a weird amalgamation of mint, coffee, and egg-sausage she wasn’t terribly fond of, but it took a backseat to the slow, confident movements of his mouth on hers.

Her concentration slipped as his arms went around her back, practically looming over her in her seated position, and April savored the feeling of being totally encompassed by him. She laid one hand delicately on his side, thumbing the juncture between plastron and shell—he shuddered deliciously at it, she took note for future study—and glided her hand up his shoulder and back of his neck. Two fingers slipped beneath the rim of his bandana, and she pushed it off over his head.

He broke to fix her with a curious eyebrow, and April giggled.

“Yep, you still look like you. Definitely boyfriend material,” she smiled, arm propped over his shoulder and absently waving the bandana across the top of his shell.

Color spread over his face from his cheeks, and Raph growled without any hint of real irritation. He grumbled, “Wise ass.”

“Mmmm, you have no idea what my ass is like, Raph.”

“No? Then how ‘bout I—” He cuffed both hands sharply on either side of her ass. Hard. “—figure it out.”

April jumped where she sat and let out the most undignified squeak she would never in a million years admit leapt out of her mouth. When all she did was gape openly, Raph’s cocky grin dropped like a rock. He started to flounder, panic drawing on his features, and he pulled his hands away as fast as if he’d set them on an open flame.

“Shit, should I not’ve—? Fuckfuck _shit,_ I’m sorry, April, I shouldn’t’ve done that—I won’t ever do that again—I’m— _fuck,_ I—I’m sorry, I—”

She shut that shit down fast. She looped his bandana on the back of his neck and yanked him down, kissing him fast and hard before he could stammer another word. Her mouth crashed into his, and Raph went stock still for the span of breath, unable to comprehend why she wasn’t yelling at or slapping him, then the weight all bled out of him and he kissed her back. But his kiss paled at keeping up with her sudden ferocity. She kissed him like an attack. Like she wanted to devour him, and something about that left him fucking exhilarated. 

She did not let him ago until Raph was equal parts dazed, confused, and making that tingly bass noise that she now realized signified his arousal. He opened his eyes to see her pupils dilated, dark and wild.

“You smack my ass again, I’m gonna lay you out on that bed and not let you up until you’ve screamed yourself hoarse on my name. Is that clear, Raphael?” April said, her tone pitched deeper. Half in threat, half in star-studded, honey-glazed, sexually-charge promise.

Raph swallowed, eyes similarly blown. “Yes, ma’am.”

She let her hands slip free of his bandana and into her lap, and the two separated long enough for the chance to collect themselves. Her phone buzzed as April caught her breath, but she ignored it. 

_Deep breaths,_ she told herself, hand over both eyes, _and a cold shower as soon as you can._

As she waited for her heartbeat to slow, nowhere near the point where she’d be able to get past the feel of his hands grab-smacking her ass, she became aware of his approach. Something he must have allowed, since she definitely would not have noticed if he did not want to be, and when she lowered her hand it was to a slightly sharper intake of breath as he stood over her, placed his bandana around the back of her neck, and put just enough weight behind it to pull her the tiniest bit forward. So gentle, yet she saw clearly the flickering heat behind his eyes. His tongue darted out like a pink specter, and she couldn’t take her eyes away from that spot.

“You think you could make me scream?” he asked. His voice was pitched low and slow, a whole octave lower than she was used to. 

April shivered, skin breaking out into goose flesh.

“I’ve made a lot of men scream,” she replied, mercifully without any tremble in her words.

“But you ain’t never been with a man like me.”

Her breath shook a little on the exhale, unable to look away from him. “No.”

He leaned down, and she held completely still. His lips framed the curve of her ear, and the pounding in her chest reignited that sweet, aching throb between her legs. Her mouth fell open as a hard shudder ran her whole spine like an Olympic sprint.

Raph whispered, “I bet I could make you scream my name, April.”

“I bet you could.”

Fuck, all he had to do was put his hand between her legs and she could have come on the spot. Scratch that, he could have _told_ her to, just given the order, and April would have unraveled from the tone of his voice alone.

She had it bad. So, so ridiculously bad for him.

Her phone buzzed. Utterly ignored, totally forgotten.

Raph circled the tails around his fingers, tightening and pulling her slowly closer. April felt the tension coil in her stomach like a spring, so tight and ready to break. She tipped her head back, eyes more than halfway lidded, and her parted lips all but begged to be kissed. Through her lashes, she watched him drink her in, how drastic of an effect he could have without even having to lay a hand on her. Something about that dynamic did something for him, because Raph chewed the corner of his mouth between his teeth and bent down to capture her mouth. Taking that kiss he so dearly wanted for himself.

 _Tap-tap._ Cold from the outside and heat from within the apartment played havoc on the window and its frame.

April raised her arms behind his head; they kissed so hard wires crossed throughout her brain. Tilting their heads and switching sides without ever fully breaking, her moans disappeared into his mouth as hot breath from his nostrils puffed down her face and neck. The air between them swelled with heat and electricity as he held her neck in one hand, the knuckle of the other grazing the edge of her jaw, pushing her hair from her face. Beneath his palm her pulse thundered, and Raph growled into her lips as the sweet sting of her fingernails cupped thin, crescent lines into his shoulder.

Fuck, it was a fight against his own body not to let it do its thing and release his dick right there. He’d been fighting the impulse to let go most of last night and a good chunk of this morning; his threads went thin and he nearly lost himself to it so many times. He never thought he’d thank all those hundreds of hours in the _hashi_ for building up his focus and endurance.

Now, those threads were pulling mighty thin again, but Raph didn’t want to break away. Not when she was holding him so tight, kissing him so hard their teeth scraped and her tongue danced over his lips. He moaned into her, and she positively devoured him.

_Tap-tap-tap._

Her phone buzzed again, drawing April out of her pink haze and into a red fury. She grabbed for the phone, made to throw it anyplace where it would not be able to bother them again, but the millisecond her fingertips touched the case the living room window shrieked deafeningly open. 

They snapped up. 

An avalanche of powdery white snow cascaded in, and followed immediately after it came the tumbled forms of three shoving, shivering, ice and snow clad turtles.

 _Fuck,_ April gawped. She forgot to lock the window.


	9. Multicolor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I just--I'm so happy with this fic. It's spawned so much joy for me in such a short time, and even though this is the final chapter I can't wait to revisit this pairing more. There's so much more I want to do for these two, and I really hope this fic will continue to bring happiness to anyone who reads it.
> 
> Bless everyone who has offered their kind support, kudos, and wonderful comments. Thank you, guys, and stay safe in these weird and stressful times!

Raph leapt off her so fast April was left dizzy and at a total loss for where to put her hands.

Don was on his feet first, shaking off his headgear and shell-mounted apparatuses; Leo rolled off Mikey’s shell and swiftly and sharply pulled the window shut behind them, closing out the wind but doing nothing to remedy the mound of snow they brought in with them. Mikey staggered up last, clutching himself and rubbing his arms vigorously.

“—c-cold nothin’, Leo, I think I-I-I’m a-actually gonna d-d-d-d-die,” Mikey shivered the last bits of whatever conversation had preceded their tumble.

“Calm down, Mikey, this isn’t your first winter. Remember our temperature training. Get your breathing under control and you’ll be fine,” Leo said calmly, not showing the faintest hint of discomfort despite the white dusting of powder across his limbs and armor.

Mikey seemed at a loss for how to do that, though, and was content to do little more than waddle away from the window and shiver where he stood. Leo shook his head and proceeded to help his brother shed the frost off his shell before it melted into unsavory places.

“Sorry for the intrusion, April, I tried calling but you weren’t responding,” Donatello was saying before her head was even cleared, wiping condensation from his glasses as he did.

“Oh.” _Shit._ “Sorry about that, my ringer was off.” Not a lie. 

Don nodded, and the glasses went back on. “Everything looks okay outside, at least. No structural damage, but the lobby appears to be snowed in. The plows are out, so if you have to go out you should still probably take the sub—way. . . .”

The first to notice. He looked at April, to Raphael, then to April and back; Raph’s jaw tightened warily. Don’s expression read a few hundred indecipherable ways for a brief second, then April witnessed the light bulb.

“Thanks for the heads up, Donnie,” she smiled shyly, “but did you guys really need to bring that much snow in with you?”

The heater had managed to build up a pleasant warmth since the blackout, but the open window gave the room quite a hit. She could already see the puddle creeping out from the edges of the pile.

Leo looked at it first, then Mike who was still dripping slush off his back. 

Taking responsibility, Leo rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Right. Sorry, April, we’ll get it. Where do you keep your—”

Leo turned and froze, finally catching sight of what shut down Donatello. Raph went rigid as the rest of his brothers locked eyes with him. Mikey cocked his head, eyes squinted, then ceased all shivering.

The context of the room finally fell into place: the bed on the floor, pillows and blankets strewn haphazardly throughout, the candles, Raph’s equipment piled up across the room, and Raph himself stiff as a statue, sans every shred of gear save his skivvies. Even his bandana. Which hung loose on the neck of April O’Neil, who herself was rumpled top to bottom and looking as calm, collected, and gorgeous as ever.

Mikey’s jaw hit the floor, and Don and Leo exchanged glances.

“Are you, uh . . . are you two okay?” Leo asked haltingly. For once, he was at a loss for what to do.

April’s serene smile never faltered, but her blush did gain a little more heat from all the staring. 

Michelangelo seemed like he might just be in the verge of erupting out the top of his shell.

She looked at Raph, and he looked at her. His eyes were wide and riddled with nerves. An edgy restlessness in his arms and tapping foot conveyed a look of such earnest ‘what do I do?’ that April felt the sourness of it in the back of her chest. She wanted to reassure him that he was not about to be judged—especially not by his own family—for wanting to care about someone. That he could be allowed this without scrutiny, mockery, or fear.

Her demeanor never changed; April did not let herself appear phased, and the calmer she stayed, unhurried and relaxed, Raph’s relentless twitching abated.

“Yes. We’re okay, Leo,” April replied. And she meant it.

It did not take an imaginative mind to connect the dots here. They’d been caught, and April made no attempt to disavow a morsel of it. She did, however, think Mikey looked like he might pass out: eyes so wide they could pop out his head. Until something in that expression broke, and a gigantic grin split from one ear all the way to the other.

“Totally called it,” Michelangelo beamed.

“Mikey,” Don and Leo looked at him in unison.

“Well I _did_!”

Leo shook his head and Don pinched the bridge of his nose below his glasses.

“What, like neither of _you_ ever made googly eyes at the hottest chick to ever grace our lives? C’mon, Don! Leo!” His brothers weren’t looking at him, refusing to dignify him with an answer, so Mikey bounced back and gestured animatedly between Raph and April, then himself at the last. “So are you two going to be exclusive then, or . . . ? ‘Cause a little snapping turtle on the side might never be a bad idea—”

 _“Mikey!”_ all three brothers shouted.

“ _What?_ I’m just _sayin’_!”

For the first time since they tumbled in, Raphael shook his head and smirked.

“You done, Mike?” he asked.

“Nah, not by far. Ooh! Unless you two got somethin’ juicy to share with the class?”

April chuckled and cocked her head. “You want the quick version or the spicy one?”

Mike’s jaw dropped so fast it practically unhinged, bouncing as if his feet were on springs; Don made an ‘oh’ face, Leo’s eyebrows shot up past his blue headband, and Raphael looked at her surprised. She had their undivided attention, and she was not about to lie and suggest the evidence tossed around the room was one huge, cosmic-scaled misunderstanding. In her defense, though, they were probably under the impression she and Raph had hooked up, a notion she really should have nipped in the bud, but she was having too much fun with the brothers’ reactions to do so immediately.

So, April blushed instead, and Mikey went full hype-man.

* * *

Second cup of coffee in hand and two more steaming cups cradled masterfully in the other, April placed either cup in front of its respective turtle and folded her legs beneath her as she took her own seat behind the coffee table. Flanked on either side of her, Donatello took his black coffee to drink from right away and Leonardo remained content to merely hold his tea below the rim while it steeped, letting the heat of it radiate into his fingers.

Together, they watched Raphael (fully clothed once again) and Michelangelo brawl around on the cleared floor in an attempt to pin the other, bantering as they did so.

“—Hah! An’ she thinks I’m funnier’n you, too!”

“Nu-uh! I am still the King of Funny! The Master of Whimsy— _oomph!_ ”

“King o’ Gettin’-His-Ass-Whooped!”

April knew better than to intervene. This was one of the best ways for them to work out their energy, second place maybe to patrols or full-on sparring. To Don and Leo, however, this was any another Sunday morning. She just hoped they didn’t break anything this time.

“So. In the interest of curiosity,” Don began, drawing the attention of April and his brother, “did Raphael make the first move, or did you?”

Leo fixed him with a sharp stare right then. April raised her mug to her mouth as if it would hide her resulting blush, but she knew they would see it regardless. It was impossible to resist smiling.

“Let’s just say it’s good Splinter taught you all your alphabet, because I practically had to spell it out for him,” she said.

Leo’s pokerface broke with a snort so sudden, unexpected, and genuine it spread between them; April giggled and even Don huffed a breathless laugh.

“Wow, _really_?” Donnie asked, a bit in disbelief. 

“That bad, huh?” Leo smiled, shaking his head while his shoulders bobbed. “That shell-for-brain.”

“In Raph’s defense, I don’t think it has anything to do with his observation skills, just a lack of experience,” April explained. 

The two turtles nodded.

“Yeah, that degree of social propriety isn’t exactly covered by our training, and it’s not like we really get to date often enough to pick up on it,” Donnie admitted freely. “Realizing your own feelings is one thing; recognizing them in another and acting on it is a whole other skillset.”

That . . . was actually a pretty fair comparison, she thought. 

April took another sip and winced as much from the heat as from the shell that narrowly avoided rolling into her entertainment center. She squinted to check for damage and instead caught the middle of an unexpected exchange: quick as a flash, Leo produced something small from a pocket, flung it at Donnie, and his brother caught then vanished it into one of a thousand pouches on his belt. Fast. Sneaky. But April saw it, and she recognized the wavy white rim and gold-starred face: The Bet Cap. The guys exchanged that bottle cap in leu of money when taking bets, and having it meant the recipient could call in an I-O-U from anyone else in the pool. Last she knew, Mikey used it on Don to get his brother to clean his room for him while he watched TV and ate ice cream.

April glared daggers at the brothers on either side of her, and Don and Leo tensed at having been caught.

“You did _not_ —you two _bet on us_?” she hissed through her teeth, keeping her voice only low enough that Raph and Mikey wouldn’t hear.

Don cowered his hands in his lap, and Leo ran his hand over his head avoiding eye contact.

Then April considered it more, and she came back with markedly less venom. “Wait, you . . . you guys thought we’d get together?”

The bothers both looked at her then to each other, speaking without words. Silent communication between siblings—that had always been a code she could never crack. So, when Donnie gave a shallow nod and Leo raised his cup to his lips, the corners of his mouth were ever so slightly curled.

“Not ‘knew’ or anything, but strongly suspected. April, Raph’s had it bad for you for a long time. Ever since you helped him save us from Sacks and helped us take down Shredder,” Leo said. He sipped his tea. “He’d never admit it to anyone, but. . . .”

Donnie finished for him, his voice soft and genial, “We know our brother. He’s not exactly subtle.”

 _Totally called it,_ she recalled Mikey’s ludicrous grin.

April sat back a little and blinked, completely dumbfounded.

 _For that long?_ she wondered. She thought back to the utter insanity of that day. The raid on the lair, Splinter nearly being killed, the fight at the Sacks estate and going down the mountain, then the showdown on the tower against the armored monstrosity of The Shredder. Those events all felt like they happened in a different age and universe. Like it was a clone of her that went through it all, not herself a mere nine months ago.

She thought on it, now, and all the time that elapsed since. How many tip-off’s she must have missed for Don and Leo to clue in so hard they placed bets on which of them would jump first.

April remembered all the times she spent visiting the lair after work and on days off, sometimes to talk about Foot Clan movements or just to hang out, watch movies, and decompress over tea with Splinter. How much harder Raph fought whenever she stayed to watch them all train, enough it earned him complaints and retaliatory hits from his brothers or a tail upside the head for not concentrating. The questions he asked about her reports not covered in interviews, not just her scoops on Foot Clan dirt or other gang activity but even the stupid ones like Fifth Street fashion surges and the latest crazes on smart water. He didn’t always seem interested in the topics themselves, but Raph listened whenever she spoke, and when he brought her into his room to show off his weapon collection once she’d smiled at finding a few of those water bottles in the wastebasket beside his futon.

Mikey may be a shameless flirt and not too proud to twirl her around the dojo belting out the lyrics of _DNCE_ songs, but Raph was the one who caught her when she tripped and ghosted her away to a quieter place where she could sit and vent. The hot shame she felt as she was brought nearly to tears over how garbage Vern was that day—never taking no for an answer and insisting “okay, another time then” when no, there would not be another time, there would never even be a _first-time_ , and she wanted _a new damn cameraman_ —and the reassuring weight of the hand on her shoulder and the sincere look on his face when he offered to “fix him for ya.” She didn’t take Raph up on the offer then, but looking back now April wondered if the look in his eyes had meant he wanted to hold her as badly as she wanted to be held by him.

With Donnie and Leo as her witnesses, April made an ‘oh’ face and her eyebrows rose higher as past matters coalesced into new meaning. She blushed vibrant red and covered her face as hot shame flooded her cheeks.

“Oh my god, I’m so dense,” she muttered out the side of her palm.

“If it makes you feel any better, we were getting ready to call off the bet,” Leonardo offered.

“Somehow that makes me feel worse.” Like it was taking so long they were ready to give up on it ever happening.

Don gave her an apologetic smile and patted her on the back.

“Sorry, April,” he said sympathetically. 

She dropped her hand. “But what about Mikey? He looked so surprised when he saw. Was he just messing around? Or did he not care until he was proven right?”

Donnie looked to his brother, and Leo took a second to consider his answer.

“Mike figured out Raph’s crush earlier than we did, but he . . . never thought he stopped having a shot with you. You know the guy could put the moves on a cactus,” Leo said flatly, careful about how far his voice went amidst the ruckus not far from them. Thank god April knew her downstairs neighbors worked early. “Between him and Raph, Mike was confident happy-go-lucky could win out against hotheaded any day of the week.” 

“Sounds to me like he was too cocky to think he’d ever lose,” April said and quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re probably right,” Don chuckled, “but that’s Mikey for you.”

“Get your shell offa’ me, Mike,” Raph protested across the room, grinning ear-to-ear as he held fast to his smaller, nimbler brother. “Say it! Say uncle!”

Michelangelo garbled against the pressure weighing him down. “ _Ack,_ get your fat arm off my neck!”

April watched this alongside the only other two sane people in the room, and all three gave a varying degree of the same head shake and long pull from their drinks when the resulting _“ow—fuck!”_ signaled Raph getting kicked in the head, and the tumbling reignited as if from the very beginning.

* * *

“Are you two finished?” Leo asked, arms folded where he stood overlooking his brothers. 

Raph sat back on one arm breathing hard. Mikey lay splayed in an upside-down heap against the wall beside him. Mike gave a dazed thumbs-up, headband slouched down covering both eyes, and Raph agreed with the shake of his head.

Leo uncrossed. “Good. Now, come on. We’ve got Foot to track down.”

Donnie unclipped his bo staff and used the end to help Mikey back to his feet. The smaller turtle came up like a spring and shook his headband back into place, giving the tails a tug for good measure. Raph, meanwhile, went to the kitchen counter where his sais were and April was putting away dishes. While his brothers made for the window, Raph slipped his sais into their holsters. April paused to look up at him, and he propped one hand on the counter beside her.

“You got any plans for t’day?” he asked.

April tipped her head causing a strand of hair to fall from behind her ear, and she swept it back into place.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m not expected at the station, but I’ve got a story I want to do some research on and that’ll probably eat up a good chunk of my day.”

He perked at the mention. “What kinda story?”

“You’ll just have to check it out along with everyone else.”

“Aw, no exclusives for your boyfriend?”

April grinned; he was stalling. She reached out and found a spot on his upper chest for her hands, and Raph responded by framing her waist in his. 

“None today, I’m afraid. But check in with me later tonight and I might just have something for you.”

“Later tonight,” he repeated, echoing it on his tongue like a promise.

She nodded. Stretching up on her toes, Raph ducked to meet her and caught her lips in a quick kiss. Well, it was intended to be quick, but his lips lingered three, then four, then many seconds too long, and April ran her hand along the tails of his bandana and tugged the two ends tight for him. He broke from her with a toothy smirk.

“Think you can manage t’ keep outta trouble for one day, Monster Lover?” Raphael asked.

“Not a chance, hotshot.”

“That’s my girl.”

A throat cleared from across the way. Raph stepped back, hands sliding out of hers the very last. But the feel of him still lingered on her skin, and April knew it would continue to linger for hours after he was gone. Raph made for the window behind his brothers, bumping shoulders with a slack-jawed Mikey. 

Mike recovered and snapped finger-guns in April’s direction. 

“Remember me, April. If things don’t work out, you’ll always have this handsome hunk-o-burnin’ turtle to fall back on,” Mikey vowed. 

“Can it, Romeo,” Raph said. His hand came down on the top of Mikey’s head and physically turned it despite protests.

Raph made sure he was last to leave. Hands on the window frame and feet in a partially trampled layer of white snow, he looked back.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” April winked.

He smirked and winked back. The window shut behind them, and all four disappeared into the meager light of early dawn.

Now, about that shower.


End file.
